


Garrison Days: Playing With The Boys

by bushybeardedbear



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, flirtyrobot, pidgance, plance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 02:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushybeardedbear/pseuds/bushybeardedbear
Summary: Before being drawn into a Universe at War, three cadets of the Galaxy Garrison enjoy a rare chance to unwind. The Idiot Lance and his Vice-Idiot Hunk drag an unwilling Pidge Gunderson on a guy's night out. Disaster inbound or maybe discovering one of life's simple joys?Edited into chapters now for easier reading.





	1. He Imagined It Sparkled

The stars were silent tonight. She feared they always would be. Still, she promised to herself that she would always come here each night. Always listen. If it took days or weeks, months, years, she would always listen for a sign of them. They were out there somewhere, she knew it in her heart. Then there was the equipment. Maybe it still needed a little fine tuning. Doable. Need to _acquire_ a few more components that nobody would miss, once the inventory data had been changed at least. Probably best to do that tomorrow or Sunday. The yawn crept up on her. Looking to her log in resignation, she neatly wrote out today’s results.

_21:00 – 22:00: Nothing to report._

She wanted to stay longer, but her body ached, and her brain protested. Leading a double life as both a cadet under rigorous near-military training and being a nightly astronomer was draining. Especially by Friday. Who knew? That was something you never saw in the comics. Batman power napping in the Batmobile or chugging back his eighty ninth coffee. Or standing in line at Starbucks, waiting for the ninetieth. She imagined the barely functional Dark Knight glaring at the uncaring barista who had scrawled onto his cup the name _Brennan_. Maybe the utility belt just injected caffeine straight into his system? Wow, now she _knew_ she was tired… Whenever she started trying to rationalise the inherently irrational worlds of comic books, it was time to sleep.

Katie Holt…no, no, nope, she stopped herself from thinking in those terms, no. _Pidge Gunderson_ stood up, she…No…not once she was through those doors…that was when the disguise had to come back. To _think_ in those terms, to _behave_ in those terms to even _feel_ in those terms. With a sigh, Pidge shoved the familiar balled-up gym sock into its makeshift harness at the front of her, now _his_ shorts. Had to feel the part, right? _He_ made _his_ way into the barracks from _his_ nightly signal spotting. The corridors of the barracks were deserted, empty, silent. That was good. Silent step, silent step, fold up the equipment easy…door closed behind. Stairs, sidestep left, avoid the creaker. Left, pace, three-yard dash, past the snoring door, duck under the window, right, three paces, one, two, three, _his_ room. Ok… Now slowly open, slide in the equipment first, prop the door and...getting his butt bumped to the floor wasn’t usually part of the procedure. Damn! That meant someone was here! He scrambled around, shutting his door, finding himself looking up at… _Oh great_.

Grinning down at him with that dopey ‘charm’ that he _believed_ he possessed, the frustrating idiot Pidge was forced to work with. McClain was the kind of cadet who could on the one hand crash a simulator like no other and on the other hand infuriate like no other. Offering a hand to help Pidge up and smiling apologetically beside The Idiot was his long-suffering friend, Hunk. Now whilst Hunk was somewhat _less_ frustrating, than The Idiot, Pidge quickly realised that Hunk still _enabled_ all of Lance’s harebrained schemes. Despite his obvious intellect, Hunk was still very much The Vice-Idiot. Pidge allowed the Vice-Idiot to help him stand before brushing himself off. Why did it have to be _these two_ Pidge ran into…? Why couldn’t it have just been _Iverson_ …? Or that asshole _Powell_? Either one would surely have been far easier than whatever these two had in mind…

“Well now…” Lance whispered in amazement, just perhaps a touch too loud, “I didn’t expect you’d _actually_ come out with us tonight, Gunderson…glad to be wrong though. Now we got Lance the man, Hunk the mountain and our _cute_ little Pidge the mascot. With the three of us, the ladies don’t stand a _chance_...” Pidge didn’t understand why he held that grin so long. Maybe he imagined it sparkled at the edge. Seemed like something The Idiot would believe.

“Uhuh.” Pidge dismissively, quietly intoned, “Well, as _exciting_ and _thrilling_ as wasting my time as one of the Three Stooges sounds, I think I’ll take a rain check on that. _Indefinitely_. Oh, and don’t ever call me _cute_ again, McClain. Not if you’re a big fan of your bones.”

“I’ll find me a few _more_ big fans of my _bones_ tonight, am I right!?” Hunk shushed Lance as the self-promoting showman bought into his own hype, “Sorry, sorry! Now quit kidding around Gunderson… You’re here, you’re in your civvies, it’s the right time, _just like I put on the note_ , so come on!” Lance grabbed Pidge about the waist, carrying him over one shoulder. Pidge’s legs flailed uselessly against Lance’s chest. Lance just grinned to himself. Pidge, now _utterly livid_ was getting ready to savage The Idiot, before Hunk leaned in, whispering.

“I _know_ you can overpower him, but if you do that, he _will_ make a fuss. A _loud_ fuss.”

“I get that…” Pidge grumbled gently, folding _his_ arms carefully to _his_ chest. Hopefully nothing telling might now undo _his_ disguise, either to be observed by Hunk or worse, felt pressing softly into The Idiot’s back.

“ _And_ if we all get caught, with our performance right now, we’re pretty much screwed…” Hunk continued.

“Yes, I get that too…”

“And, based on my study of the night watch rotation, you stand a more statistically significant chance of _not_ getting caught now if you just make a break for it. By _about_ a factor of 12...give or take a variable…”

“I get _that_ too. Also, yes, your math checks out…” Pidge agreed.

“ _And_ Lance has been trying to get you out of here for team bonding for _weeks_ now. Maybe months actually… Point is, _maybe_ he’ll shut up about it and focus on the simulator practice. _Just humour him_ … Just this once…?”

“Fine…” Pidge sighed, finding himself assaulted by waves of Lance’s cologne. It may once have been quite the nice fragrance, a combination of sandalwood with unexpected subtle highlights of cinnamon. The problem was the _quantity_ and not the quality. “Not like I really have a choice, is it…?”

“He’s probably not about to let you go without a fight, no…” Hunk smirked, “Guessing you didn’t even _read_ the note before you threw it away. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been caught out like this.”

“You guess right…” Thinking back, Gunderson thought of an irritating paper aircraft that had landed in front of him during the quantum theory lecture. Why the hell was The Idiot even _in that lecture_ …? Then, with a groan, Pidge remembered it was _Professor Rider_ lecturing. Or as The Idiot would always say, _Professor First Name I’d Like To._ An undeniably attractive woman, sure, though Pidge was always far more impressed by her doctoral thesis than any other aspect of her. Not even after pointing out the wedding band, elbowing him _hard_ in the ribs for every comment or even showing him a picture of Rider’s wife would discourage The Idiot. If anything the last one seemed to encourage him _more._ Stupid guy. Pidge sighed, wishing he had read the scrawled message before just destroying the – admittedly very accurate – aircraft. Pidge was resigned to his fate, “So I’m stuck here… Can I at least _kill him_ when we get to town…?”

Hunk shrugged, “Yeah. He’d probably deserve it… Though we’re not going as far as town…”

“Where then…?” Pidge frowned, confused.

“You’ll see…”


	2. Think With Your Sock

The Bitter End was filled with what a salesperson might call, _Rustic Charm_ and what the rest of us might call woodworm or indeed rot. Approaching the dilapidated establishment over the crest of a hill, Pidge felt as though the next strong breeze might tear it down. Drawing closer, it was clear that the neon lights outside the bar probably hadn’t worked since at least the 2050’s if not the _19_ 50’s, though they did collect a heavy coating of sticky looking brown dust. Practically falling off their hinges, a pair of rickety saloon style doors looked as though they begged for the sweet release of an insurance fraud fire. Between the smell of stale beers, was the smell of stale vomit and the slightest tang of long dried blood. Pidge nodded in mock approval.

“Sure. Looks like a lovely place.” Pidge remarked, “Not at all giving me Bates Motel vibes…” At least Lance had finally let him _walk_ and not be slung over his shoulder. It had of course taken a fair bit of wiggling and threats of bodily harm to convince him. Though, not before an _accidental_ ass grab or two. Lance was just adjusting his weight, apparently. Pidge would be sure to pay him back for those.

“I want to tell you that looks can be deceiving…” Hunk offered, “But _no_ , you’re pretty much spot on…”

“Come on!” Lance tried to encourage them, “We’re not here for the _bar_ we’re here for the _girls_! The Man, The Mountain, The _Mascot_ …” Pidge growled a grunt of protest as Lance pinched at the young cadet’s cheek, “When they see us, Ladies gonna be all like… M! M?! Mmm!” He tried his best to look cool walking in, but it was just a little…too much.

“Because of the three Ms…?” Pidge declared blankly. “Oh jeez…”

“You should be glad he stuck with _that_ …” Hunk groaned, “He almost went with _The Three Muffketeers_ …”

“You two are such _guys…_ ” Pidge mumbled under her breath.

“Say what?” Hunk asked, wandering through the door and giving the place the once over.

The inside of the bar was at least _less sun-bleached._ That was the best you could offer by way of compliment. It was all arranged in neat wooden little booths made of long chair-benches and tables, each dimly lit by a grimy light fixture. Hanging high at the centre of the room was a long dead ceiling fan, it’s light fixture choked with a pile of long dead flies. A truly ancient jukebox more rust than rhythm droned an out of tune, though it could barely be heard over the chatter of patrons. The main event was of course the bar and what was behind it. Clearly the majority of the money went into making certain there was an international selection of drinks, even if there was no rhyme or reason to their placement. Ouzo sat alongside Saké, Mead made a home with Cachaça, Tequila rested by the kind of Vodka that could fell a bear. Even a dizzying selection of Beers and Lagers were available on tap, offering choices between everything from a brown fizzy water with the merest essence of alcohol all the way to the kind of sickening slurry that was only ever ordered as a dare. Lance was already at the bar, gesturing to order from the bartender. The extremely gaunt and pale man already looking exhausted through his mess of black hair.

“Nothing important.” Pidge clarified as Hunk led them to a free booth. There were a lot of free booths actually. The number of actual patrons seemed pretty thin on the ground, Pidge considered. “Wait, so the guy at the bar is ok with Lance ordering...?”

“Not much point coming here if not…” Hunk shrugged, “This place is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Few miles from town, hardly a _traditional_ kind of tourist spot, can’t even afford to run the charging station it used to have, not enough traffic drives by.” He continued to explain, “You get two kinds of customers here. One set is from the Garrison and not _all_ of us are underage... Not that they _ever_ check. They don’t care where the money comes from, so long as we’re spending. Why do you think they have so many drinks from round the world? It’s for the _cadets_ from around the world…”

Pidge frowned, “And none of the Garrison staff know…?”

“Sure they do.” Hunk gestured subtly with each name, “Over there is Mr. Harris, trying to hide in his coat. Lee from reception. I forget _her_ name, but I’m pretty sure she works in or _runs_ the IT department… Course they know, Pidge. They just turn a blind eye. Some professors even treat the place as a kind of trial for the students. They figure if you can make it out here past the base security, unwind a little and _still_ keep on top of your grades… Then you’ve got a good enough head on your shoulders… Not everything we learn is supposed to be learned in _class_... Course, they still have to keep up appearances, so no getting caught again I hope…”

Not entirely sure what to make of that, Pidge politely nodded. “And the other set?”

“People looking to hook up with a real-life space cadet.” Hunk responded fairly casually, “They tend to be a _lot_ more concerned about our age. Not that that little fact ever stopped Lance from trying his luck. Speaking of…”

From the bar, an appalled shriek and the distinct sound of a formidable slap. The Idiot returned, one half of his face reddened, offering the table a grin as he shuffled himself beside Pidge and opposite Hunk. In one hand he held what could only be described as an almost spherical bowl of a cocktail glass with lurid green _something_ resting on a thicker syrupy layer of violently blue _something_. The glass rim was festooned with fruit slices, straws and tiny paper umbrellas. In the other he clutched a tall glass of dark brown almost black fizzy liquid and a thin black and red can. “The usual coke for Hunk, ever the _designated driver_. And for our little sleepyhead mascot, Krimson Kaltenecker. You need to work a little less hard in the day if you want to be out grabbing a cold one with the boys at night, little man.”

“You know, I was _about_ to ask if you were ok… Right up until the _little man_ comment…” Pidge grumbled, glaring at the placid cartoon cow on the can of the off-brand energy drink.

“You mean this?” Lance gestured to his slapped cheek, “This is nothing! Alexander the Great didn’t conquer Rome in a _day_ by giving up the first time Julius Caesar slapped him, right? And don’t be so _sensitive_ , I was just talking about your height, Pidge. Pretty sure there’s no need to worry about _anything else_ …”

There was so much _wrong_ with that statement that Pidge felt both _his_ and _her_ brain break a little.

“Really Lance?” Hunk raised an eyebrow, “You’ve barely had a sip of that… _thing_ you’re drinking…and we’re already talking about the new guy’s _junk_? Man, I knew you were a lightweight but…”

“Excuse me? This, _thing_ is a _superb_ cocktail, deliberately made to look eye catching. Shows confidence. You see any other guys drinking anything like this…? No. But Lance? He’s got the _cojones_ to do it...”

“Right…” Hunk looked sceptical, “But talking about the new guy’s junk so soon might be a bit much… We only just dragged him out here. Don’t freak him out too soon…”

“Hey, it’s not _that_ weird…” Lance protested. “Is it…? Besides, you didn’t carry him. Every step, his thing’s just…” To add emphasis, he rhythmically clapped a palm against his shoulder a few times, “ _Slapping_ right against me. I’m telling you, Gunderson here is _packing heat_!”

Pidge felt her face swell into a blooming red, she wanted so badly to just have the ground swallow her up, a meteor to crash into her… _Anything_ to be as far from this conversation as possible. She, _no_ she told herself, he, _he_ grabbed the can and began to drink it, trying to hide behind it as much as possible. _Stupid_ _swinging gym sock_!

“Awww! You’re right Lance, he’s so _cute_!” Hunk teased, laughing as he reached over and roughly ruffled Pidge’s hair, “Look at that, you’ve embarrassed him!”

“You got _nothing_ to be shy or embarrassed about, Gunderson…” Lance smirked, “Now, what’s your poison?”

Pidge stared blankly, still recovering from the unwelcome hair ruffle.

“What are you _drinking_?” Hunk clarified. “If you _want_ a harder drink that is. No pressure here.”

“Right.” Lance nodded, “Hunk barely ever touches a drop…”

“Well, I _can’t._ I have to keep my eye on _you_ don’t I…?” Hunk replied.

“It’s cool if you’re not comfortable. Though, they do have _mead_...is that how you say it?” Lance nodded, “Yeah I bet anything with a name like _Gunderson_ you’re all about the horny helmets, great big bushy beards, battle axes, Dragon Shouting and Viking juice…” Lance seemed pretty sure of himself, he smiled smugly.

“By that logic I’d have to assume you were Scottish or Irish, _McClain_ …” Pidge rolled his eyes, “And I’m pretty sure that stereotype is both offensive, historically inaccurate and just plain _dumb_ …”

“Cuban. Where else but the Caribbean could produce this sun kissed charmer?” Lance bragged, posed even.

“Well, at least _the sun_ kissed you…” Pidge smirked.

“ _Damn_.” Hunk chuckled, “Shots _fired_ …”

“Alright smart guy, where are _you_ from?” Lance hiding his huffy defensiveness badly, “You can’t exactly blame me for _guessing_ when you hardly ever speak to either of us…”

“To be fair, I do get a few words out of him in the Library.” Hunk offered.

Lance looked sick at the mere idea of it, “I’m guessing one of those was _shush_ …”

“I’m Italian.” Pidge stated, “There, happy?”

“Really? You don’t look _or_ sound Italian…” Lance just looked baffled.

“And how exactly does an Italian _look_ or _sound_?” Pidge was growing ever more irate, venting frustration with a drawn out, “ _Testa di cazzo_ …”

Lance grinned, “You’re not even the first person to say that to me. I knew it was a compliment! Told you so, Hunk. I must be doing something right…”

“I’m not really shocked by that…” Pidge laughed gently, “If you’re still getting me that drink, see if they can fix me up a… double caffe corretto.” There was no way, no matter how well stocked, that this place had any Grappa. Nowhere had Grappa. _Italians_ barely wanted it these days, her Dad had often complained. Another chance for The Idiot to make an ass of himself, Pidge hoped.

“Coming right up… Though, I may need to make a quick diversion…” Lance’s eyes followed after a tight skirt that presumably was attached to the rest of a woman, though Lance didn’t really notice. He sucked the last of his cocktail dry which forced Pidge to double take. “Hunk, anything?”

“You know me.” Hunk tapped his still mostly full glass, “Maybe in a little while.”

Lance nodded, homing in on the tightly packaged assets he had spied before.

“He’s something else…” Pidge grumbled, taking another look at what he had assumed was quite a large glass of alcohol, now very much dry. “How do you put up with him…?”

Hunk smiled, “Sometimes I wonder that myself. But he’s a good dude really. Y’know… Under all the…”

The sound of a fierce slap echoed through the bar.

“Well, under all _that…_ ” Hunk continued.

“Yeah, sure Hunk. It’s the _good ones_ that are always getting slapped in the face, right?”

Hunk narrowed his lips, furrowed his brow. “I _probably_ should have warned Lance that he already hit on her last week… Oh and here comes her sister…”

Another slap echoed.

“Ooooh… That _might_ leave a mark…”

Pidge just sighed deeply, “You know you _could_ just tell him to stop…”

“Tried.” Hunk insisted, “This is just something he feels he can’t quit at. Y’know, keep on trying until you find the one. Never give up. That sort of thing…”

“Sounds like Einstein’s definition of insanity…” Pidge retorted. “That or he’s just _into_ getting slapped…”

Hunk sighed, an uncomfortable expression briefly flashed over his features, “So Italy. Not seen much of the place myself. Visited Florence as a kid. Nice place, ever been there?”

“Couple of times…” Pidge downplayed it, she had in fact been there so many times she had lost count. “There’s this _museum_ there that I always visit when I go…” She remembered it fondly. Being there with her family. She chased away the thoughts of them still missing, before her eyes could grow misty.

“Da Vinci Museum, right?” Hunk smiled at her expression of shared understanding. “That’s what I remember most from the trip. Well, that and the food. Man, Italian food is something else… I mean sure, the buildings are all pretty, David’s a Masterpiece of course but that’s like saying water is wet, right? There was just _something_ about being among all those replicas of Da Vinci’s inventions… Really felt like walking inside the mind of a genius… The man was incredible.”

“ _Centuries_ ahead of his time.” Pidge agreed enthusiastically, “When I first visited…wow, I must have been four or five… I didn’t even know Da Vinci had designed the first diving suit! And there it was, this crazy looking leather contraption, bellows above the water… Everything looked just…perfect. Nearly 300 years early! Then there was his _Tank,_ his _Helicopter_! Things nobody else had even dreamed of, we had the blueprint _right there_ if only we’d just…tried! Just imagine how advanced we could have been if only we’d used _half_ of his ideas!”

Hunk chuckled, “Yeah, maybe. It’s an interesting idea... But you say you were _five_? Man, you were an early starter. I think I may have still been into macaroni and glue at that age, not renaissance artist-inventor-geniuses.”

Pidge could feel herself thinking back to her family again, “I just had really supportive parents I guess… When other kids wanted to watch cartoons, I’d be on the documentaries… Sometimes…I’d find myself _fact checking_ the documentaries… _correcting_ some of the more stupid ones…”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Hunk laughed, “You know you really should hang out with us more, Pidge. I get that you’re focused and driven and all that… But sometimes everyone just needs to slow down. Appreciate the little things. Cut loose. Lance kinda helped me with that. I’d just be a bundle of stress if he wasn’t around helping me keep things in perspective. Course, some of his schemes bring me a whole other kind of stress… Point is, he’s good for _some_ things. And it really would be great if you two tried to get on a little better. It’d help us all function as a unit better. Won’t pass the simulator if we don’t at least try…”

Pidge nodded, “Alright, I get it. I’ll try… No promises though… I’m not exactly the _confident_ sort…”

“You _don’t_ say.” Hunk joked, “You and Lance have that in common, Pidge. Believe it or not.”

Before she could press Hunk further, Pidge found herself in stunned silence at what was suddenly placed in front of her. _Him_ , she kept reminding herself. Damn. _Himself_. Think _guy_. It’s not hard, just…try to imagine that maybe 60% to 70% of the time, _think with your sock_.

“And, _viola_!” Lance declared, his grin framed by freshly matching slapped cheeks. The absurd cocktail he placed down for himself reminded Pidge of a purple and pink Lava Lamp. That wasn’t the issue here though. “One caffee coretto, for the Italia _hn_ - _oh_ Stalli _ahn_ - _oh_!” Pidge cringed at the attempt at the accent. “Double as requested. Though we didn’t know if you meant double _espresso_ or double _grappa_ , so Jean over there…”

From the bar, the gaunt bartender nodded and offered a silent gesture of thumbs up directed at the table.

“S’up Jean! He went with both.” Lance explained, “That cool?”

Pidge swallowed hard. “Uh…sure. Thanks…”

“That much caffeine…” Hunk looked between the now crushed can and to the delicate looking porcelain teacup that had clearly seen better days. A dark brew steamed within. “You’ll be bouncing off the walls. And I can _smell_ how strong that stuff is from here… Man, that’ll put hairs on your chest… Hairs on your _hairs…_ ”

Pidge shrugged, “That’s fine!” He squeaked a little too eagerly, “Always been a night owl!! Could do with a little more hair too! Ha! HA!” Clearly _didn’t_ look nervous or demented. Good going. The caffeine wasn’t as big an issue as the _grappa_ would be. It was a potent drink at the best of times, but she remembered having just a sip had made her merry before. This was a whole hot steaming double. She was much younger then though, so this would be fine…right? But then again, she _was_ with a couple of guys… No, _he_ was with two _other guys_. Even if Lance, _The Idiot_ was…frankly, a liability… Hunk seemed like he’d keep things from getting too crazy.


	3. So-Called Razzle Dazzle

Pidge took a sip of the hot drink. The coffee was bitter, strong, yet mingled with a deep satisfying richness, a fresh almost medicinal tang and finally a smooth caramel aftertaste. Pidge remembered from a long _long_ while ago that her Father – quite the fan of grappa – would always comment that the best aged examples of the spirit would leave a little caramel kiss on your tongue. She realised then, that _of course the Bitter End would have Grappa laying around_. From time to time, surely her Dad would have come here as well. It made her feel oddly connected to him again as she breathed the scent of the drink. With a contented sigh, Pidge smiled.

Hunk laughed, “He reminds me of you, Lance. That nostalgic look, it’s pretty much the same. You remember that Rum, right? The one that just _had_ to be Havana…?”

“C’mon man…” Lance waved away the comment as though waving it away would somehow silence it, “It’s just that brand of rum reminds me of home is all…”

“Well…then he’s right. This reminds me of home as well…” Pidge smiled, odd she felt, to not be feeling quite so sad at the thought of her Father. “Reminds me of my Dad. Hot summer days…of course, I’d be scrambling to the next bit of shade…or staying indoors if possible… But the breeze was nice… Well, when it wasn’t filled with pollen anyway… Damn allergies… Always preferred winter anyway…and I’m rambling…”

“Grandma McClain’s Rum Cake…” Lance leaned back into the cushion of the booth, ignoring the dust that rose from it, “Every bite is just this… _dense_ little taste of heaven. And she’d _always_ put in so much extra rum… Always had to be _that_ brand. Nothing else would do, she said. All the spices and the sweetness. Beautiful moist little bites down to every last crumb…It was like she’s some kind of kitchen magician... Good thing I have a big family. If it’d been just me, all that extra cake would’ve set me up as the next Cuban Sumo. Grandma struggled a little in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t stop. Every Friday for the evening meal, for family time. She’d always bring in the youngest to help her out, give them the bowl and spoons to lick… And her laugh, it’d echo round the house. You never heard a laugh so _carefree_ ‘til you heard Grandma’s…” Lance trailed off, “Sorry, I’m just sat here getting all sentimental…” He disguised a sniff as clearing his throat, “That’s not what tonight is for…”

Slowly, reluctantly, gingerly, Pidge placed a hand to Lance’s shoulder, “It’s…ok you know. We all get homesick… And hearing you talk about it…” She, no _he, got to be he_ , “Well, it’s _cool_ how much you… Love and miss your family… It’s like the most _honest_ I’ve seen you since we met…” She withdrew her hand quickly.

Hunk observed their interaction with growing curiosity from behind his glass.

Lance smiled, shrugging it off, “C’mon, _knock it off_ Gunderson… No need for us to get so _sappy_ is there? The whole world’s just an hour away _at most,_ hop on the next transport. It’s not like we live in the _steam_ age... I can visit anytime if I wanted to. I’m just being dumb…”

“It’s not dumb to miss the people you love, Lance.” Pidge punched him soft in the arm, “If it is, then you’re calling _me_ dumb as well. And you don’t want to do that, or…I guess I’d kick your ass.” He took a deep sip of his drink. A wave of warmth and comfort seeming to spread through her. Him. Oh screw it. Her. Think her, all you have to do is _look_ him. It doesn’t matter, really, right? Relax a little.

“Sure, you’d _try_ , Gunderson…” Lance snorted, “But I’d give you one of these…” He made a clumsy jab with an outstretched palm which only succeeded in ruffling Pidge’s hair and lightly brushing an earlobe. As he withdrew in the next second, all he managed was to knock the younger cadet’s glasses off.

Pidge caught them mid tumble, a look of mild irritation on her face, “Wow. You’d _mildly_ inconvenience me. That’s some _scary_ stuff…” Though she paused, his blue eyes were unmoving, as though looking through her, or into her, it wasn’t as though his expression was _unpleasant,_ but it _was_ unexpected. “Why…are you _staring_ …?”

Lance laughed just a little too loudly, “Who me? _Staring_? Nah.”

“Well, you…kind of _were_ …?” Pidge just seemed perplexed as she placed her glasses back.

“Just…uh… _Psyching you out_ with mind games…” Lance waved his hands in what he may well have assumed was related to kung fu. Though to other observers, it looked uncannily macarena-like. “Is it working…?”

“If I say yes, you’ll stop, right…?” Pidge practically pleaded. “So… _yes_ …?”

“Knew it.” Lance nodded, satisfied, “Who said you can’t trust stuff on the internet…?

“ _Everyone_.” Hunk and Pidge responded as one.

“Ok, third time’s the charm… And after a little Dutch Courage…I’m on a charm _offensive…_ ” Lance shot them another one of those grins-he-must-imagine-sparkled, knocked back the rest of his cocktail and started to strut. Well, unsteadily wobble and strut, “Don’t wish me luck boys, won’t _need it_ …”

Pidge turned away from the inevitable car crash, “Well, on the positive… At least he’s persistent…”

A particularly fearsome sounding slap.

“…and _con_ sistent…” She sipped at her drink.

Hunk coughed politely, lowering himself to the table and talking in a hushed tone, “Let me know if I’m getting the wrong impression…” He tilted his head over to Lance, “But…you’re both…starting to get along _really_ well, right…? Like… _really…well…_? It’s not like it’s an _issue_ or anything, but I didn’t really expect it so… I don’t know, _quickly_ …? Maybe next week, the week after but… After _one_ night…? Am I _imagining_ this…?”

Pidge stared back at him, “I literally have _not a single idea_ what you’re talking about, Hunk.”

Another distant slap.

Hunk frowned, raising himself up. “Oh. Well… Huh…” He shrugged. “That’s… My bad I guess…”

“Anyway, what’d you mean about _Lance_ of all people not being confident?” She looked over to the subject of her enquiry. The strutting teen was busy posing, giving a small group of utterly unimpressed women what he’d probably call his gun show. “You’re saying _that_ isn’t someone _plagued_ with confidence…?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying.” Hunk confirmed. “Have a look about Pidge. I know you’re not exactly the _bar fly_ type but maybe given these variables you can suggest an explanation. This is the only bar close enough to both town and the Garrison for both groups to meet up easily. The town’s population, last I checked was somewhere in the range of 40 to 50 thousand, that’s before you consider the…let’s just say _untraditional tourists_ …coming here for the sole purpose of hooking up with a real life space cadet. For all of one night. The Garrison has had its largest attendance in the last decade. Last, it’s a _Friday_. Look around you. You see, what, 20, maybe 30 people, including you, me and Lance. So?”

“So…” Pidge thought carefully, sipping on her drink. “Not sure if this is a trick question… But, you’re saying we’re here at a _quiet_ point of the evening…? Maybe the _quietest_ …?”

Hunk nodded, “You got it. Couple of hours ago, this place would have been wall to wall. Between the staff off for the weekend, the cadets trying their luck and the town nearby… It’s like a tin of sardines. Sweaty, drunk, sex starved, often _teenaged_ sardines… DJ in the corner, can’t hear anything over the bass. If it weren’t for Friday nights from the Garrison, this place would have shut down a _long_ time ago… Now though, most have either _had_ their fun, or _found_ some fun whilst their night goes on elsewhere…”

“I know that _I’d_ avoid that, sounds awful honestly… No way I’d cope with that many people…” Pidge took another comforting sip of the drink, “But surely Lance would _want_ to be here then…? More sardines in the tin, right? More chances to work his so-called ‘ _Razzle Dazzle_ ’ right?”

“Sure…” Hunk agreed, “You’re right that a really _confident_ guy might do just fine in that kind of a scenario. They’d see the better odds, roll with the blows, thrive even. Lance though… He says he prefers to be able to talk, that the music interferes with his _mojo_ …” Hunk’s expression was one of sadness now, “Truth is… I guess he comes here at _this_ time, because he’s _not_ so great with crowds. Maybe it’s nerves a little, but for sure he can’t grab the centre of attention in a crowd, y’know? That’s what he wants. To feel…special… I dunno, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you all this…but, he puts on this big act, this song and dance, his _razzle dazzle_ for any kind of attention. Y’know what, to be fair, sometimes it kinda works. He’s not a bad looking guy and eventually with that much persistence, you’ll find one, two, even a group of women who just want to get a picture with a space cadet. He gets a few pecks on the cheek, a selfie with a bunch of girls, and bang, he gets himself a confidence boost…for a while anyway…”

Pidge found herself looking over at the strutting, preening, overly animated flirt-machine, already moving on to the next booth. She saw that performance through new eyes and quickly found herself looking away, a sinking feeling gripping her chest, “Oh… That’s…”

“C’mon, just don’t say it’s _funny_.” Hunk shook his head, also looking away from Lance, “I know he can get on your nerves, but don’t be mean about it, ok…?”

“I was going to say…” Pidge caught the waver in her tone and quickly corrected it, taking another sip, “That it’s really _sad_ honestly… I just feel a little sorry for him…” She glanced from the corner of her eye to the desperate cadet who was in the middle of being slapped once again. “Personally, I don’t even think he _needs_ to do all that dumb stuff… He should just cool it down a _lot_ and just… I dunno, be _genuine_ with people… Be yourself, right? That’s what people always say about this stuff…though, I’m no expert…”

“Is _that right_ …?” Hunk smiled, “You reckon Lance just _being himself_ would work on people…?”

“Well…it can’t possibly go any _worse_ than _this_ …” She gestured with a nod to another slap, very nearly a punch. “You know him better than me. You said he’s a good guy underneath all _that_ , didn’t you…?”

“That’s true. 100% true.” Hunk polished off the rest of his drink, “I always knew that him being himself would work on _someone_ eventually… I’d guess it’d be somebody Lance never expected… Probably _they’d_ never expect it either…” He laughed to himself, “You want something…?” Hunk gestured with his empty glass to the bar, “Something _softer_? You do look like you’re swaying a little…”

Pidge shook her head, “I’m _fine_ , maybe once I’m done with this one…” She sipped harder at the mug of hot brew, she didn’t agree she was _swaying_ though. Though maybe _Hunk_ was swaying a little.

“Ok…” Hunk sounded just a touch unsure, “But the offer stands… I’ll see about getting Lance another one of his weird cocktails… Maybe a _virgin_ one… But don’t let _him_ know…”

Pidge nodded, rather than admit to Hunk she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by a virgin cocktail. She’d look it up quickly on her phone whilst the others were both busy. Having barely pulled the semi-transparent device out, she was surprised to feel a sudden heavy thud beside her. Dust cloud, the overused scent of cinnamon and sandalwood. She called up a site and nodded, understanding at last Hunk’s need for secrecy. The low groan from beside her prompted a response as she put the phone away. “So that’s strike three, McClain…?”

Lance groaned again, “You think a lot of these girls just… _prefer girls_ maybe…?”

One of the women whom Lance had previously failed with walked out, arm in arm with a cadet neither recognised. An older, and judging by the black stubble, quite male cadet.

“Sure they do, Lance... Sure.” Grabbing him by the scruff of his Jacket’s collar, she lifted the despondent teen’s head from the table, “No drooling on the table, you don’t know where _it’s_ been, and it _really_ doesn’t know where you’ve been…” She playfully scolded.

“You enjoying this, Gunderson?” Lance sighed, “Getting to see the devil-may-care guy who never took a simulator seriously slapped around a little bit of revenge for you, is it…?”

“Maybe a little…” Pidge admitted, “But just like with the simulator, you’re not really _screwing up_ …” She paused, “Ok, _fine,_ you _are_ screwing up… You’re screwing up a lot. But, you’re _only_ screwing things up because you’re putting all your energy in completely the wrong place…”

Lance frowned, “Say what?”

“In the simulator you try to fly _impressively_ rather than just using what you already know and trying to fly a little safer. Be Lance. Use Lance’s experience. Don’t be the showman.” Pidge explained, “You take _unnecessary_ risks, just to prove to yourself you can do it. It’s a little like trying to sprint before you can crawl. At least, that’s how it feels to me. It’s the _same_ thing here. Less showman, more _Lance._ Just be you. Try a little _less_ action and a little _more_ conversation…”

Lance pursed his lips in thought, “I…I guess that might be true…”

“Well, whilst I’ve got you listening to me…” Pidge continued, “You _never_ listen to my input. _Cut that out_ ok? I know my stuff and I’m part of your team. So just _listen to me_ would you…?”

Lance nodded, “I know. I’m a little useless at taking orders… Especially ones that make me feel dumber…”

“Lance, no offence and _really_ not to sound like I’m bragging…but relative to me… A lot of Cadets here _are_ dumber than I am.” Pidge smiled, “But, that makes me an _asset_ to our team. You’re the experienced pilot. Hunk is engineering. I’m the coms specialist on the one hand, but also the best science officer you could hope for. _Those are our roles_. Nobody’s in charge, we’re a team. So, could you stop treating my input like an insult and _listen_? I tried coming to this stupid bar, you try to cool your jets, alright?”

Lance shrugged, “I can try… I guess I always got used to being the sole operator when I was running cargo, never had to deal with a whole crew… This might sound dumb, but…I always _kind of_ feel like I’m in charge, just because I’m the one at the front…” He blushed lightly, smiling despite his embarrassment. “Sounds even dumber than in my head saying it out loud…”

Pidge laughed slightly at this, “Yeah, not how it works. Sulu wasn’t the captain, just the Helmsman.” She returned his smile, pleased to see such an honest expression. Though, aside from maybe way too much caffeine being to blame, quite why she felt this tiny, pleasant, almost _lifting_ feeling in her chest was a mystery.

“Who the heck is Sulu…?” Lance responded.

Pidge sighed, “Right, sorry… _Nerd reference_... I forget not everyone’s into _ancient_ Space Opera…”

Lance laughed, “Pulling your leg Gunderson. I was a kid who wanted to see the stars. Sometimes it felt like the closest I’d ever get was that ancient space opera. And, I always saw myself as a Kirk, personally…”

“You _would_ see yourself like him, wouldn’t you…?” Pidge poked him.

“Hey! Alright, fine…would you quit with the assault? I’ll be Sulu then. I guess that makes Hunk…Scotty?” Lance chuckled, “Naturally, if you want _science_ as well, then you’re Spock. Who else would you be?”

“I find your choices _quite_ logical.” Pidge softly laughed, “No wait, I’m laughing! Too emotional for Spock…”

“Maybe…” Lance looked away, “But it’s good to hear you laugh a little, Pidge…”

And _there_ was that warm little lifting feeling again. Huh. Weird. “Yeah, it’s not completely unheard of…”

Hunk sat himself back down, coke in one hand and an orange and pink cocktail in the other. He even added sparklers, much to Lance’s approval, based on the grin. He looked suspiciously between the two, noticed the lightest touch of red to one’s face and then the other. “Am I _interrupting something_ here…?”

“I was just trying to explain our team dynamic through the power of Star Trek.” Pidge explained, slightly slurring her words and chuckling, “You’re Scotty by the way, Mr.Sulu and I already decided.”

“Don’t mind Spock. He’s having one of his more _human_ days.” Lance explained.

Neither of them seemed to notice the playful little touches to one another’s shoulders they were exchanging. Hunk did. “Oh. It must be one of those _once every seven years things_ , huh?”

“Hey!” Lance blurted, “You _think_ I wouldn’t notice Hunk…?” Lance eyed his teammate, sucking at one of many straws menacingly. As menacingly as one can anyway. “Distract me with the sparklers, maybe? Hope I’d be too…distracted? Well it _nearly_ worked! But not quite. I’m getting something else put in here... A little something called _al-co-hol_ …” His eyes drifted to the one booth he hadn’t yet tried his luck with. “And after that… I think Mr. Spock and I will try our first away mission.” Lance wavered his way over to the bar.

“Well, I tried…” Hunk shrugged, sighing in resignation. Once he was sure Lance was out of earshot, he leaned in again, lowering his voice and quietly saying to Pidge with a devious chuckle, “I probably shouldn’t say this… But screw it… _You know he thinks you’re cute, right_?”

Pidge, glaring over the rim of the cup, raised an eyebrow and set it down again, “Yeah, _cute little mascot_ wasn’t it…? Why are you bringing that up now…?”

Hunk shook his head several times, his whole body shuddering with stifled laughter, “Wow. You’re _completely_ clueless aren’t you…? That’s _not_ what I’m talking about… Look, I get that he’s really _really_ up front with the whole hitting on _women_ thing…but, Lance has been known to… _occasionally_ …be… _flexible_ …”

Pidge tilted her head to one side as though examining Hunk as she might examine a particularly tricky equation. “What are you _talking about_?”

Hunk stared, growing doubtful of reality. “ _Great._ Now I have _two_ clueless friends…” He grumbled.

Lance returned once more, his freshly alcohol enriched cocktail already looking diminished in volume, “Alright, Pidge, you ready to be my wingman…?” His tone almost pleading, “If I’m going to try this whole _be myself_ thing then, some back up would be awesome…”

Pidge looked downbeat, worried, concerned, nervously fidgeting with her glasses. “I guess that’s fair… But, I’m not really sure what a wingman is supposed to _do_ … I mean, obviously I get the whole _fighter pilot_ use of the term, watching each other’s back and all… But how does that translate here…?”

“Simple, Maverick…” Lance grinned, gently tousled Pidge’s hair, “If I’m about to get shot down, you back me up. Step in with something cool or just, agree with me, that sort of thing.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Pidge looking noticeably relieved, to her surprise not even minding the hair thing that much. Almost even liking it. “But… _Maverick_ …? I thought I was mascot?”

“Consider it an upgrade.” Lance laughed, “And you _must_ have seen Top Gun…? Hunk, you’ll back me up here…right? We’re going to be _pilots_ out in _space_ , Top Gun should be _required viewing_ … It’s a classic!”

Hunk nodded, “Cheesy it may be and man that tech is _ancient_ but, yeah, it’s a good one. Lance will probably beg you to watch it... Then if you _don’t_ agree it’s good, look forward to a lecture…”

Pidge had found a new favourite response to Lance, the playful elbow jab in the ribs. Even if sometimes she did have to bend and tiptoe a little to pull it off. “Cool it, _Iceman_ … I was just pulling _your_ leg.” She teased, “Course I’ve seen it. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m a big fan of the gay subtext. It just adds so much to the whole film when it’s viewed through that lens.”

“Wait…” Hunk raised an eyebrow, “That was supposed to be _sub_ text…? Pretty overt if you ask me…”

“I thought I was the only one who saw that!” Lance let out a relieved laugh, “I thought I was weird…”

“Lance…” She leaned against his arm, mainly for support against a sudden new surge of drunken wooziness, “You _are_ weird. But that’s ok! I like weird…”

“I’m pretty sure weird likes you right back…” Hunk smirked.

Lance hid a blush badly, “Hunk, knock it off… And you…” He turned to Pidge, “You’re not backing out of being my wingman just by trying to be _extra_ cute… It’s not going to work… It’s _not_ …”

Pidge just looked confusedly up at him, still supported by his arm. “Wait…when was I trying to be _cute_ …?”

Caught off guard by the warm brown-golden gaze, Lance laughed nervously. “I said knock it off, Pidge!” Lance pulled the younger cadet to his feet, “C’mon, march!"


	4. If We Were Eskimos

Hunk, knowing better than to take his eyes off the definitely drunken duo, watched them shakily make their way over to the last booth, each leaning on the other for support. Lance didn’t need his arm around her shoulders, Pidge probably didn’t need an arm about his waist. The odd part was that neither one noticed they were doing it.

Lance however had spotted something else. “Abort.” He whispered, “Abort! _Abort_!”

Before the command could be followed though, a quite distinctly pompous voice guffawed from the booth. Pidge hadn’t spotted the guy, because height, but as he stood his appearance was even more distinctive. Very few people at the Garrison didn’t recognise Charles Powell, for better or worse. Handsome, chiselled even, with a well-defined masculine frame. Copper-blonde hair swept forward into a dashing style, green eyes that might be piercing if they were not quite so cold. He stood in his dress uniform, swirling a haughty glass of red wine. Surrounding him were a small group of vapid hangers on, the kind of students who simply followed in his wake.

“Gracious, if it’s isn’t last chance Lance…” Though his airs and graces overwrought accent sounded it as laarrst chaarrnce laarrnce. “I thought I heard you trying your _tired_ little act around the place. Poor women. Well, at least your luck is still keeping you at the Garrison. Only, I’m sure, by the skin of your teeth. It _surely_ wouldn’t be your skill in _cargo_ … What a joke. You know you shouldn’t be here.” His cohorts chuckled around him, as Lance shifted uncomfortably.

“Actually.” Pidge chimed in, “Statistically, Cargo Pilots tend to perform better in adjusting their flight paths to optimum efficiency. Owing to years of making almost imperceptible adjustments to their flights accounting for the shifting weights of their cargo. No two _loads_ are ever the same, so no two _flights_ are ever the same. Makes them adaptable as well. We all take the same tests and _luck_ is not a measured parameter. How about you just enjoy your evening, we’ll do the same, ok?”

Lance looked to the younger cadet stood by his side, meeting Powell’s glare without a shred of fear or doubt. He was certain now. Gunderson was really, _really_ _awesome_.

“ _Actually_ , nobody here was speaking to you, _whoever you are_ … And don’t think you can _threaten_ me no matter how politely you word it.” Powell glared harder at Pidge. “I was just reminding Last Chance over here where his place is. The Gutter. Some of us _earned_ the right to be a _real_ pilot through skill. Some of us weren’t cargo _filth_ , given a free spot, handed to them by a quirk of fate…”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t _need_ your permission to speak. That’s not how the chain of command works, sport. Until you graduate, we’re all _the same rank_.” Pidge returned the glare, “And it’s Cadet Gunderson. I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, _Cadet_ Powell, but I’m just not a very good liar. And there was no threat implied. But if you want to push, you might regret it.”

There was an inward sucking of air from Powell’s group.

“Regret it? Go on then, you munchkin. Give it your best shot.” Powell visibly seethed.

“Pidge, it’s fine…” Lance assured, only to be cut off.

“ _My best shot_? _Munchkin_? Ok, well you asked for it.” Pidge shrugged, cracked her knuckles. The drunken haze even felt as though it was pushed aside as her magnificent mind sparked into action, “First, I think you need to get a better grasp on how the whole selection process works. It’s an aggregate score, composed of both written theory _and_ practical test elements. Not solely derived from skill. If you were to look…” Pidge reached for her phone, tapped a few quick inputs, waited a second or two, “… _juuust_ here…” She pointed to an enlarged read out, projecting the data onto the table surface. “You, bottle blonde. Move your drink. You’d see that by comparison, Lance’s nearest competition for the position actually scored _significantly lower_ on practical elements. Whereas they scored far _higher_ on the written portion…”

“Probably because _they_ didn’t sleep through the first half hour, eh _Last Chance_?” Powell spat furiously.

“You done?” Pidge asked curtly, “Lance, could you hold this a sec…?” She handed him her phone, still projecting the image. “Little higher, hold it _still_. Thank you.” She said brightly and smiled sweetly at the stunned boy, before returning to her dissection of Powell. “Also, you should keep in mind that the weighting of the elements has shifted in the past four years. When you first took the tests, _Cadet_ Powell, the weighting was about 75:25 in favour of practical elements. The very next year and from then on, the weighting _shifted_ to account for the latest generation of guidance system, which whilst _far_ more efficient does require much more system knowledge to get the best out of it. So, the weighting becomes around 60:40 in favour of practical. Now, knowing all _that_ let me show you something _really_ interesting…” Calling up a few more inputs, pressing the projection, all new data flashed on the table, “Here’s the results of Lance’s selection process under _current_ rules… And… _here…_ ” Lance’s name shifted up a place, “Is how it would have been under the _old system_ … Oh. Look at that. _He would have made the grade_ , he _even_ would have entered at the same level _you_ did Powell. _Last of the pack_. What an interesting _quirk of fate_ that would have been, right? That under the same circumstances, the data suggests that at this stage, you and Lance were comparable in skill. Fancy that.” She took her phone from Lance, his smile stunned and awed.

“So?” Powell scoffed, “We’ve all seen how awfully he performs in the simulations… And why do you even _have_ all this data so easily accessible, are you _stalking me_ …? Or are you stalking _him…_?”

“Being aware of my teammate’s strengths and weaknesses is a necessity. Hardly indicative of anything else. Coming in suddenly half way through a semester might mean you lag behind a little, that much is true. I hope I don’t need to support that statement with data, but I can if you like?” Pidge paused, “No? Ok, good. As for accessing this data so rapidly? It’s called an _efficient filing system_. You should try it. And _no_ , _Cadet_ Powell, I wouldn’t waste my time stalking _you_. You’ve _absolutely got nothing_ that I’d either need or want. Oh, one thing I should mention, just as an _aside_ really. If I recall correctly, and _I do…_ you got to re-sit your flight test, didn’t you? That’s pretty _rare_. Something to do with a _malfunction_? And then out of the blue there was a _sizable_ donation made to the Garrison by your _Daddy._ Which I’m _sure_ was _just_ a coincidence, right?” Pidge smirked smugly, knowing she’d taken this asshole down a peg, “As for your _obvious_ comb forward…? Buddy, _everyone can see you’re going bald_ so just accept it gracefully…”

The bald comment was what pushed it. Powell snapped. The frenzied senior scrambled over the table, before any of his sycophants could hold him back. He hurled himself toward Pidge in a howling fury.

In an instant, Lance took a stance, throwing a punch high.

His most likely trajectory came to her in a flash and Pidge thrust her fist low.

His own momentum drove him harder into their blows, Lance’s solidly connecting with his jaw. There was a very certain and deeply satisfying feeling of something _breaking_. Lance hoped that when the adrenaline wore off, it wouldn’t be something of _his_ broken. Looking lower, he saw Pidge’s own attack land square beneath the belt with a satisfying smack. Powell doubled over in pain, falling to the floor with a breathless whimper. The rest of his entourage stood, all looking ready to avenge their fallen leader.

A small cough came from the bar along with the command. “ _Stop_.” The voice croaked like a distant whisper, yet it carried a very real sense of threat. Jean, the almost ghoulish bartender pointed to Pidge then Lance. “ _Stay_.” He gestured to Powell and to the rest of Powell’s group. “ _Banned_.” He made it obvious that he was reaching below the counter. Nobody ever stayed long enough to see what he would pull out in these rare situations. “ _Out_.”

They did not need telling twice, a few of the group silently tending to Powell, helping him to his feet so that they could leave as one. Powell glared to Pidge and Lance, though it carried malice, there was another very obvious emotion in those eyes. Resignation. Loss. Defeat.

“ _Assholes._ ” Jean offered Pidge and Lance a thumbs up and returned to serving another customer.

“ _Puta Madre_ …” Lance breathed, shaking out the ache in his fist. “Dude, you are _awesome_.”

Standing a little shakily, Pidge wriggled her fingers, “No big deal, just punched a senior in the balls…”

“Yes, big deal Gunderson! Very big deal.” Lance smiled from ear to ear, “He’s been screwing with me since I got here, and you just… Beep boop! Get Data’d son! Then POW!! I get him in the face, like _bang_ someone needs some dental! Then you like, _knew_ where he’d be and just… _Scieeeence_ _Puuuunch_!!”

Pidge chuckled, “Get data’d…? Science…Punch _…_? Lance, you are such a dork…”

“Pidge.” Lance grasped on to each shoulder, a serious expression on his face. “If you’re going to say it, then say it right! Come on, breathe it in, really feel it! _Scieeeeence Puuuunch_!!!” Lance worked his way around, knocking Pidge’s legs a little outward, “Come on…give me a fighting stance!” He gently took one wrist in his hand, his chest against the back of Pidge’s head.

“You have really soft skin…” Pidge breathed the words without a thought, just the very strange sensation of him being so close, his warmth, violating her personal space and yet she didn’t want to run, or shove him away. That hardly ever happened. But it seemed to be happening more and more tonight. Then, there was that familiar feeling creeping back again. The strange warmth, the little lightness and little lifting in her chest. It all felt so right. Even his stupid amount of cologne was starting to smell good.

“Glad you noticed. Glad to see it’s not all going to waste. Actually…so do you…” Lance put his free hand upon Pidge’s shoulder. “Now, just make a fist, work with me here… Breathe in, bend…” And they moved as he directed, “Throw and… _Scieeeeeence Puuuunch_!! And I’m not letting go until I hear you do it…”

Pidge felt the sudden urge to tell him _not_ to let go. She struggled against it, fought it away. “Actually… I feel a little lightheaded, could I go sit down, get a drink…?”

Lance released his grip. “Hey, no problem man. I guess the adrenaline rush has faded, huh? You’re not used to getting into fights yet… Come on…” He helped his friend walk back to their table, offering his cocktail.

“So, you guys just kicked _so much ass_!!” Hunk congratulated them, “I thought for a second I’d need to step in, but _Bam_ and he’s down! You make a pretty good team…”

Pidge’s face meanwhile was lighting up as she drew more of the cocktail in. “This tastes…like _joy_!” She declared after catching her breath, “Lance, why didn’t you _tell me_ this stuff is so _good_!?”

Lance smiled, his own eyes sharing that same joy, “You, my good sir. Have truly exquisite taste in alcoholic beverages.” He looked to Hunk with a grin, “See? _He_ gets it. Why don’t _you_ ever come to the Cocktail Side…?”

“Should you two really still be drinking…?” Hunk asked as politely as he could, “Sure, you handled yourselves pretty well just now, but another one of those each…?”

“S’fine!” Pidge giggled, “We can _share_ one. Go pick a good one, Lance.”

“But they’re all good…” Lance moaned, “Don’t make me decide on just _one_ …” His eyes fell on his now empty glass, “Wait, hold up a second, did you _finish_ mine…?” His eyes look fit to burst, “Gunderson… I trust you with my drink and this is how you repay me…”

“Snooze, lose, you.” Pidge looked to him, falling forward against him. “Boop.” She poked him on his nose.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom…” Hunk stifled his laughter at the sight of them, “Now Lance, promise me you won’t buy another drink when I’m gone.”

“But Huuuunk!” Lance moaned, pouting. “Pidge and me were gonna _share_...”

“I’m pretty sure I mentioned this already… They taste _really_ good…” Pidge added.

“ _I mean it Lance_.” Hunk intoned quite forcefully.

“Fine.” Lance huffed. “I won’t buy another one...”

“That doesn’t mean you can buy another _two or more_.” Hunk had played this game with Lance before.

“Fine…” Lance finally conceded.

Hunk departed with a satisfied sigh of relief. “Maybe we should call it a night soon…” He thought aloud.

Pidge had rested her head against Lance’s shoulder, “Hey you, bony shoulders…” She whispered.

“They are _not_ bony!” Lance protested with a whisper, “I’ll have you know they’re _toned_.”

“Fine, _tony_ shoulders…” Pidge giggled at her own silly pun. So it should be added, did Lance. She wriggled closer to his ear, still whispering, “Hunk said _you_ shouldn’t get another drink…so that means _I can_ …”

Lance turned his head to the devious cadet, the tips of their noses touching. “That is a brilliant plan… Also, if we were Eskimos, we’d be kissing right now…”

“That’s a factually incorrect statement based upon rumour, misunderstanding of several distinct native populations and casual xenophobia…” Pidge reprimanded him, “Or is it…? Never mind that, I’ll have to fact check myself…later…but, your nose sure is warm…”

“So’s yours, you dork…” Lance laughed, the pleasant scent of countless flavours on his warm breath.

“Who you calling a dork, you _dork_? I’ll have you know I’m a _geek_ , a _nerd_ perhaps. But I am no _nerd_!” Pidge paused, thinking over what she’d just said, before adding, “ _You’re_ the dork, Lance…”

“Wait…you just said you’re not...a nerd…but…?” Lance paused, “You know, actually I think we _may_ just have had enough to drink… Also, you do know, we’re still Eskimo kissing, right…? You don’t want any of those several distinct tribes to see us and get the wrong idea… Or would you…?”

“ _Just one more_ to share. I want to try a good one, so tell me a good one. Cause I don’t know their names.” She laughed, “And no…we’re just touching tips… _This…_ ” She rubbed against his nose while shaking her head, “Is the gesture you’re talking about…” Pulling her face away, she shuffled herself over, sliding into his thigh and gesturing to get by, “Well come on, let me go get one…”

“Can you do it in a way that doesn’t involve me moving…?” Lance asked, looking just a touch flustered. Wondering what shampoo Gunderson used, he figured that must be why the cadet smelled so damn good.

Pidge sighed, shoving him a little, “ _Lazy Lance_.” She continued to slide into his thigh, before reaching over him and sliding again, shuffling, then wiggling over his lap. “There. Passed. Now, what am I ordering…?”

Lance’s face looked a little off, “Uh… Just ummmm… Maybe… Jean, he knows my usual orders… Ask him for one of Lances… Surprise us…” He was also breathing a little strangely.

“You ok…?” Pidge grew more concerned.

“I’m _fine_ Gunderson. No problem at all!” He smiled just a bit too hard as he wriggled and readjusted.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? Like, _kick you_ or something…?”

Lance shook his head, “Relax, I’m ok. Just get us that drink before Hunk stops you.”

Pidge nodded, “Right! You’re right! One sharing joy tasty thing, coming up!”

Lance couldn’t help but watch him go very closely. He flopped his heavy feeling head to the dusty back support and almost immediately regretted it as the cloud coiled about him. Just had to relax. “Just relax, Lance…” He told himself, “Just _calm the hell down_ … Just teammates. Just out for a drink. Just… _relax_ …” He closed his eyes, “Not thinking about that. Not. Thinking… Oh crap… Totally thinking about that… He’s too freaking _cute_ …”

“Well, that’s not the scene I was expecting to come back to…” Hunk told Lance as he sat down, “First question, are you about to melt into the floor? Two, where’d Pidge get to?”

“I’m…totally fine, just… A-ok… Just…need to _stay sat down_ for a sec…” Lance thought quickly about the second question. No he didn’t. He thought about it for far too long. “Bathroom. You must have missed him.”

“Uhuh…?” Hunk’s tone was doubtful to say the least, “So that’s _not_ him coming back from the bar?” Hunk groaned, “ _With two freaking cocktails_ …”

“Would you believe that’s his _Evil Twin_ …?” Lance asked as he opened his eyes, looking over with a grin at a rather overjoyed looking Pidge who was clutching at a trio of drinks. “Good choices. Liking the decorations… And something to appease Hunk as _well_? Good idea…”

Pidge rested the drinks down and hopped into the booth alongside Lance, resting a head to his shoulder, “That blue one’s yours, mine’s green… And Hunk’s got the coke of course.”

“Should have figured…” Hunk cast his eyes to the ceiling in a theatrical groan of despair. “I tell _Lance_ he can’t buy another drink and suddenly _Pidge_ is the problem… I am way too young to be looking after a couple of kids…” Hunk moaned at them. “Don’t blame me for the hangover from hell…”

“Wait a sec…” Lance’s puzzled tone enquired, ignoring the warning utterly, much to Hunk’s annoyance, “I thought you were getting us _one_ to _share_ …?”

“Actually, kinda wrong on both counts…?” Pidge smiled a little sheepishly, “See, I must have forgot my wallet so I _kinda_ sorta had to put it on your _tab_ Lance… Which Jean would _really_ like you to pay off soon…” She forced an apologetic chuckle, “The good news is, Jean tells me that these are supposed to mix together at the half way point…which might be fun…”

Hunk was puzzled that Pidge had got so much of an explanation from the barman.

Lance looked down to the sheepishly, sweetly smiling young man beside him. Part of him suspected the cadet was pulling the cute card deliberately and trying to play him. Another part far more strongly suspected the usually quiet and withdrawn Gunderson simply had no idea how adorable he actually was. The cadet was adorable as well as awesome. Lance blushed softly at his realisation, “It’s…it’s fine…” He grasped at his drink, taking a long, needed, cooling sip of a blend of coconut and refreshing mint. “Small price to pay to _finally_ get you out of the Garrison…”

Pidge smiled at the apple and lemon concoction, “You _might_ not say that if you’d seen your tab…”

Lance laughed, “No Pidge, I still would… But don’t think I don’t _see you_ stealing some of my drink…”

She offered her own straw reluctantly, “Alright, _here_ …”

With a chuckle, Hunk snapped the pair of them mid-sharing, certain the photo would come in handy one day.


	5. Small Dork And Awesome

Pidge suddenly snapped into activity, pointing between their two drinks excitedly. “That’s what these reminded me of!” Pointing to the blue then the green, “Mana. Stamina. They look just like potions! The exact same _shade_ even! Just like the enhanced Super-UHD Texture DLC of…”

“…The Firstborn Manuscripts Twelve…” Lance offered with a lilt of hopeful doubt.

“…Venderant Axiom!” Pidge completed the title with a beaming grin, “Wait, you _game_ , Lance…?”

“Who _doesn’t_ these days?” Lance joked, “Wouldn’t it be weirder if I didn’t…? Had to sneak in to use my brother Marco’s computer for Axiom though… I must have seen _that intro_ thirty or forty times before I could finally save outside the first dungeon…”

“Grasp it now, oh, chosen of destiny!” Pidge quoted, adopting a decent enough impression of a very familiar NPC from the game, “Take into thy hand…”

“…and to thy soul…” Lance continued, a slightly embarrassed grin over his features.

Hunk watched the two complete the quote in unison, “…the power and _fuuury_ that is the waking moon, the aspect of Nalaberong. Last of the Venderant, your destiny awaits!” Staring down at his coke, part of him was suddenly wishing there was a bottle or two of something much stronger mixed in. Felt like he needed it.

“I couldn’t believe that guy turned out to be the Ender of Days, what a twist!” Lance excitedly added.

“You didn’t realise from the _start_?” Pidge teased, “Uh, hello? He was wearing _purple_? The colour of the _Antithetical Order_ since the days of the Wakening World…?”

Lance furrowed his brows, “Well, yeah… I guess… But the Antithetical Order don’t exist anymore…”

“They’re the same as the Shackled Soul of the Ravaged Moon!” Pidge’s emphatic explanation touching on desperation, “Y’know? Two foes reborn in every age to echo their rivalry throughout each epoch…?”

Lance stared blankly.

“Alright… You know how the _Trickster’s_ form became the burning moon, his mind became the world altering relic from the sixth game, the Arkeviser… But his _soul_ is never accounted for…” Pidge grinned, “The Players take on the _role_ of his soul…”

Lance stared dumbfounded, whilst Hunk braced himself.

Hunk was a slow drinker at bars at the best of times, but even his usually slow consumption seemed to crawl to a pace closer to that of elderly snails or glaciers. He wished that the Bitter End served food sometimes. Though given the quality of the building, the idea of what horrors might exist in the kitchen turned his stomach through somersaults. He found himself fading in and out of Pidge’s _lecture_ on the lore of a series he was only vaguely aware of. At times he’d catch brief snippets of things he knew or had heard of like “ _The Ribs where rests the planes_ ” or references to “ _the codex of the cosmic_ ” which according to Pidge’s elaborate and well supported theory was itself a Firstborn Manuscript. What surprised him most was how well Lance followed along, interjecting his own surface level understanding of the setting only to have it expanded upon in countless new tangents by Pidge. All the while, his Cuban friend was – and there was no other word for it – enraptured by Pidge’s every word. Hunk supposed that Pidge could have been talking about almost _anything_ and Lance would still be listening as though his life were enriched by every syllable. The fact he actually understood a lot of her references only made it worse. His glass was still half full of coke and growing steadily less fizzy.

“I didn’t even realise _half_ of this stuff was in the games!” Lance stared dreamily to the young cadet, “You’re going to have to make time to teach me it all…”

“Or maybe he could help you actually _pass this semester_?” Hunk offered hopefully. His hopes soon dashed as the two began to debate the merits of in game builds, Pidge very adamant that the Cross-Classed Vampire Blight Elf Archer-Rogue-Mage was best used with a Hauberk of The Dark Dawn to mitigate sun damage. Lance meanwhile much preferring to really immerse himself with a Lizardkin Warchemist.

“They just suit the realm!” Lance argued, almost growing huffy, “You’re in the middle of a Lizardkin story, the Drakescale has been assassinated and a new coldblood must rise to the throne. It just makes sense more than some _build guide you followed_ for power…”

Pidge poked him in the chest, “ _Followed_? Lance, I _write_ the build guides. I don’t _follow_ them… And unless you really want to Roleplay hard then…” She paused, “Ohmigosh, you _roleplay_ don’t you!?”

Lance shrugged, bashful, “It just helps you get _immersed_ y’know… Put on a _voice_ , react to the world the way you think your _character_ would, lose yourself in the fantasy a little… Y’know, feel like it’s _your_ story…”

“That is _so freaking cute_! I want to see you doing that… We could even LARP…” Pidge only partially teased him, suddenly distracted again by the drinks, “Hold up Lance, half way… Give it here…” Taking his cocktail in one hand she began to pour blue into green, watching the liquids swirl together.

“And there was me thinking you said Alchemy was underpowered…” Lance placing his face closer to Gunderson’s, following the process along as though it were far more complicated than reality. As he watched, he plucked a decorative grape from the glass, chewing in concentration. The two liquids began to form a singular glowing aqua-cyan that very much reminded Lance of the ocean back home.

“And I have the data to prove it…” Pidge mumbled, taking a sip on the new concoction. She nervously looked to Lance, pulling the drink away. “It’s awful…” She lied, “Really… I’ll _save_ you from having to endure it…”

Lance raised a suspicious eyebrow, “That so…?” His arms quickly encircled Gunderson, wrestling the glass free from her vice-like grasp. He took his own sip. Now, whilst you may not expect that mint, coconut, apple and lemon might compliment each other, you might mostly be correct. In this case however, in just the right proportions mixed by a master of their craft, the four blended into a truly wonderful dance about the tongue. Pidge was desperately trying to grab it back, Lance only casually lifting it above his head. “What’s wrong short stuff, I thought you said you _haaaaated it_ …?”

Pidge pouted, sitting herself back down, “Fine… But you’d better share…”

Lance placed the glass softly between them, Pidge already grasping at a straw, taking it to waiting lips. Lance watched the cup start to drain. In a panic to enjoy the delicious mixture, he took his own straw, sucking hard enough that his face began to flush red. Pidge, now fully committed to this duel, redoubled her efforts, glaring daggers into Lance’s eyes. Crushing the sides of Pidge’s straw together, the younger cadet let free a muffled yeep of protest. Pidge dipped a finger into the mix, spreading it over the length of Lance’s nose. Predictably, Lance recoiled with an outward protesting cry. Pidge secured victory, taking the last few drops of the mixture.

“That was a dirty trick, Gunderson…” Lance smirked, wiping his nose clean, “And I approve…”

“That’s what you get, straw squeezer…” Pidge cleaned the end of her cocktail coated finger with a deft lick. Lance was not entirely subtly staring. Hunk didn’t need to guess where his friend’s mind wandered.

“Well now you two are _finally_ done geeking out, drinking irresponsibly and _whatever the heck that was_ … By my best guess…” He did a quick headcount, “Yup. I was right. Lance has tried and _failed_ with all the girls left in the bar… Could we all perhaps just _maybe_ call it a night…?”

“Wait…what…?” Lance asked, looking distinctly downtrodden, “Well that’s…even _faster_ than usual…” Feeling the soft pang of sadness, his lips barely had the time to curve downward before two insistent index fingers shoved against the corners of his mouth. Soft skin to soft skin, he followed the hands along to a rather vexed looking Pidge, found himself for…he’d lost count by now, but _again_ staring into the eyes of this cadet.

“Stoppit…” The slurred words more of a command than reassurance, “Not happening. If I have to sit like this all night, not happening. Not a _Lance_ face at all.” Vexation turned to a pout, “You don’t need those girls to _tell you_ that you’re an awesome guy, Lance. You already _are_ an awesome guy! _I say so and Hunk says so_. So that right there is _peer reviewed_. A solid _scientific_ theory. So, it’s the most likely explanation until such time as new data challenges it. It’s good as _fact_ that you’re a scientifically, objectively, observably, quantifiably, _awesome_ guy. So _there_. And who needs any of _them_ to have a good time anyway? Now smile for me. Or else.”

“Puffhhhge... Cnnnf spffff…” Lance’s muffled protest responded, before he gestured to the young cadet’s fingers. They cautiously backed away, revealing an actual smile, “Ok, point taken… Thanks for reminding me I’m awesome, Gunderson… You’re pretty awesome too…”

Hunk by now was just trying his best not to burst out into either laughter or demands that they just _get a room_.

Pidge remained unconvinced, “You still seem a little less than happy…” She scrutinised his eyes, “Though, I think I have an _idea_ …” She reached for her phone again, leaning against Lance as she fiddled with a few commands and fought back another drunk bit of dizziness. “Mom always made us do this at Christmas… I used to _hate it_ as a kid… But, I guess it grows on you… Reminds me of _someone_ …” Arcing her head backward to look up at the taller boy, “Hey, you up there… Got a song in mind…?”

Hunk’s face darkened, recognising exactly what Pidge was suggesting. He recognised the app, but never would have guessed Pidge would have it hidden away. Lance’s eyes had already lit up in recognition, Hunk felt the inside of his ears reflexively twitch in self-defence. “Please, not that… _anything_ but that…”

The light in his eyes had spread to his smile and his tone, “ _Karaoke_ …? Pidge my _man_ Gunderson…where have you _been_ all my life!? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get Hunk to do Karaoke with me!?”

Hunk groaned dropping his head to the table. “These two are gonna be the _death_ of me…”

Pidge, thinking back to an earlier conversation, searched out a song she was sure Lance would enjoy. Something that was sure to keep her goofball smiling. She was proven, thankfully and blissfully right by another one of his hey-maybe-it- _does_ -sparkle-but- _just-a-little_ grins. The ones she was starting to really enjoy seeing. She hit play.

For the first few seconds, Lance decided to ‘sing’ along with the opening instrumentals. It wasn’t awful, just the kind of thing you’d expect from anyone doing air guitar. Which, coincidentally, he also started to do.

“You goofball…” Pidge softly laughed to herself before the lyrics kicked in.

“ _Revvin' up your engine, listen to her howlin' roar…_ ” They sang together, Lance insisting on adding the echo of the original at the end of roar, amusing Pidge with his gusto. Hunk meanwhile was just surprised that when Lance wasn’t trying too hard, when he was just _at his ease…_ his voice wasn’t all that terrible.

“ _Metal under tension, beggin' you to touch and go_ …” Lance drummed his fingers with the synth, before both breaking into, “ _Hiiiighway tooo the danger zone!_ _Riiide into the danger zone_!”

“I always thought that bit was _right_ into…” Lance mumbled.

“Lance! Focus!” Pidge pointed to the screen.

“ _Headin' into twilight, spreadin' out her wings ton-ight-e-igh-ight…_ ” Lance had got Pidge doing the echo now, both smiling at each other, holding back a laugh, “ _She got you jumpin' off the deck, and shovin' into overdrive._ ” Both drummed with the synth now, Hunk wished he’d started recording them from the start _so badly_. From now would have to do, he guessed.

“ _Highway to the danger zone_!” Pidge had even started copying Lance’s unnecessary raised fists of emotion. You know the ones. “ _I'll take you, ridin' to the danger zone_!”

“ _You'll never say he-llo to you, until you get it on the red line overload_! _You'll never know what you can do_ _until you get it up as high as you can go-ooo-oh_!” Both smirked, before leaning against each other, busting out the air guitars through the instrumental. “ _Oooh yeah_!” Lance added on que. He knew the song scarily well.

With a small prompt from Lance, Pidge was ready for the next line. Lance had to admit, the little guy could sing _really_ well, though maybe his air guitar needed work, _“Out along the edge is always where I burn to be. The further on the edge, the hotter the intensity…_ ” Both missed the drumbeat this time, distracted by the word _intensity_ and the imagery in the video. Momentarily, both seemed lost in a shared and longing gaze.

“ _Highway to the danger zone_!” Brought them back to reality, “ _Gonna take you_ _right into the danger zone_! _Highway to the danger zo-o-oone_! _Right into the danger zoooooone_!” Pidge holding the last note slightly longer than Lance and playfully jabbing him in victory. He just smiled, ‘singing’ along with the synthy instrumental.

“ _Highway to the danger zone, gonna take you right into the danger zone_! _Highway to the danger zo-o-oone_!” Lance was ready to give in, the song pretty much hit repeat on itself, but somehow, Pidge’s obvious enjoyment suckered him back in. He wasn’t about to leave him hanging. “ _Right into the danger zoooone_! _Highway to the danger zone_! _Gonna take you right into the danger zone_!” And whilst both tried, only one hit the notes just right on; “ _Highway to-OO-o the danger zo-oh-oh-one_!” And whilst normally Lance would hate that anyone had outdone him, with Gunderson he was pretty cool with it.

The song faded out, Hunk clapped politely as did a few other patrons, along with a few ignored jeers. Jean offered a thumbs up and an exceptionally rare smile.

“You’re awesome! Your _singing_ was awesome! _That_ was awesome! Freaking _awesome_!” Lance let the laughter out at last, grabbing Gunderson in a one armed hug, “ _You can be my wingman any time_!”

“Bullshit!” Pidge replied to his quote with her own through the laughter, noticing again that warm, strange yet wonderful lifting feeling in her chest, “You can be… _mine_ …” The feeling was surging now, lighter, threatening to block out all of what little reason she could currently muster. She was feeling lightheaded, dizzy. Lost in sparkling, dazzling blue eyes, examining a jawline, drawn toward his smile, toward soft lips.

The sound of the camera app surprised her. She hadn’t noticed Lance grabbing it and snapping. “Hey, I wasn’t even looking!” She complained, squeezing herself in closer, looking into the screen with her head pressed to his, a cheesy grin on her face, “ _Now_ take one.” Lance obliged. “You know Lance, your perfume is really nice…”

“It’s not _perfume_ …” Lance defensively corrected, “Take that back before I tickle the crap out of you…”

“Not really giving me a good reason to take it _back_ …” Pidge smirked. Somehow the idea of being powerless against his touch, laughing and squirming pinned beneath him, didn’t sound all that terrible.

From the bar came the repeating peal of a brass bell. The call for last orders. Jean look visibly relieved as he shook at the leather strap of the antique, it was one of the few things kept in a relatively decent condition. Locals and few faculty members alike made one last journey to the bar.

Hunk shared Jean’s sense of relief, “Alright you two. How about we take the highway to the _garrison_ now? We’re the last students here so we should _probably_ get a move on… And don’t give me _those looks_ , we can come back next week, ok…?” Catching himself, Hunk felt his heart sink. He really _was_ looking after a couple of kids. Drunk kids. Drunk kids who were _clueless_ about what was going on between the two of them. He fought the urge to blurt it out as they nodded silently back at him.

The two shuffled together from their seat, Lance standing unsteadily but quickly getting to grips with gravity once again. Pidge however was scarcely able to do much more than rest against Lance’s back, arms wrapping about his waist only _partially_ out of a desire to be close. Mostly it was for stability. She sat herself back down on the seat with a dust blasting thud.

“I think I need to sit a while…” Pidge explained with slight embarrassment, closing her eyes. “Dizzy...”

Lance smiled, “Guess _I’m_ not the lightweight any more, right…?” Lance had stumbled from a standing position against Hunk. “See, I’m absoperfectly fine…” He reassured as he crouched himself low to the ground.

“ _Sure_ Lance.” Hunk groaned, “You’re just peachy…” He hoped that the fresher air of the approaching morning might do the pair of them some good. It was either that or carry them both back to the Garrison, one slung over each shoulder like bags of drunken potatoes. Possible, but hardly something Hunk relished the idea of doing. Lance had by now for reasons unfathomable to Hunk, wrestled one arm free from his jacket, one knee against the deeply scratched and stained wooden floor. “What are you doing, man…?”

“ _Pidgeyback_.” Lance replied, turning his attention to Gunderson, “Yo! Small, Dork and Awesome. Hop on.”

Pidge regarded Lance with a similar confused expression as Hunk’s, cautiously approaching Lance. “Right away, Tall, Jerk and Irksome…” She grumbled, before flopping against him again. Wrapping her arms about his shoulders and her legs either side of his torso, she blanketed herself with his jacket, helping him put his arm back through the sleeve. She sighed, “I didn’t really mean that… You’re only _average height_ …” She mumbled.

Pidge was starting to wordlessly understand Lance’s half-baked ideas better as well. Hunk wasn’t sure if he should feel very _worried by_ or very _happy about_ that fact.


	6. His Next Goofball Remark

“Alright…” Lance fastened his jacket once more, “On three…” He readied himself, intertwining his hands into a makeshift seat, “Three!” He stood, controlling his balance surprisingly well. He smirked to himself hearing the surprised squeak from Pidge, provoked by their rapid ascent and his own cheeky squeeze.

Hunk was certain that toppling over was in their future. He took a gentle hold of Lance’s jacket, ready for that distinct possibility. He started slowly guiding rider and ridden out from the bar and into the still, cool air of the dwindling night. “You _sure_ you’re going to be ok…?” Hunk insisted.

“Well, he’s not exactly my first choice of steed… No wings, no elemental breath, not even a horn…” Pidge responded, yawning and nestling herself to Lance’s neck and shoulders, “But I guess I can cope…” Her peaceful outward breath seemed to suggest as much.

“I’m sure he could manage at least _one_ of those…” Hunk’s suggestion lost on an already napping Gunderson. “What about you, _steed_? Think you can stay upright…?”

Lance offered an almost silent “Shhh…” In reply, gesturing with a soft tilt of face and eyes toward the softly breathing bundle draped about his back. “Is Pidge asleep…?”

Hunk examined Gunderson and nodded, “Looks like it. Who’d have thought that would ever be possible with your bony shoulders…?” Hunk smirked, walking back in the direction of the Garrison, keeping a close watchful eye upon any signs of stumbling.

Lance silently huffed, “Why can nobody tell the difference between subtly toned and bony…?” He thought back to the evening with a sudden pang of guilt, “Man, I’ve just realised that you and me hardly spoke all evening…”

Hunk shrugged, chuckled at Lance’s insight, “Lance, it’s fine. Gunderson and I already kind of get on, or at least he _tolerates_ me. You’re my best friend. Tonight, was always about breaking down the barriers between the two of you… And I think mission accomplished.” He smirked playfully, “Though, maybe your next _date_ can just be the two of you…? I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel…”

Lance blushed, falling silent for far too long before finally offering, “C’mon, Hunk… It’s not like _that_ …”

“Well…” Hunk turned a very serious expression to his friend, “Maybe it should be? The two of you really hit it off, man, you get that right…? Unless you count getting your face slapped, then this is the most physical contact I’ve seen you get…well, _ever_ to be honest… And we both know how often you mentioned you thought he was cute and what a shame it was we all never had the chance to hang out… And we’re in the same _bunk_ Lance, you _talk in your sleep_. Lot of names come up, sure. His surprised me most of all…”

Lance shrugged, “We both know it’d be one sided… Super smart genius falls for an idiot like me…? That’s not about to happen… Besides, I’m older…wouldn’t it be like taking advantage…?”

“First off, mentally you are way younger. When there’s no drink involved, he’d keep _you_ out of trouble… Second off, nobody chooses who they fall for. Though they _do_ choose who to call… a scientifically, objectively, observably, quantifiably, awesome guy…” Hunk shrugged, “Seems pretty cut and dry to me…”

Lance heard him of course, but the words refused to sink in. How could they? Lance had always scraped by, that’s what he told himself. Luck won out for him more than most other factors, it certainly didn’t come down to skill. That’s what he always knew. He was never the strongest, the fastest, the smartest among his family, his friends, here at the Garrison. Fighter pilot always seemed like a pipe dream, an impossibility. Getting in as a cargo pilot would at least be something he could get right. Maybe he’d never feel the G’s around the Martian Moons, maybe he’d never see the very edges of the solar system, but he would see the Earth from above. Be part of something that mattered, even in a tiny way. He’d fulfil on the smallest level possible the dreams of a very young boy who had reached to the stars in wonder, trying to grasp his tiny hand around the moon. He accepted that, it made sense. He was nothing special really, so he’d settle for that.

Though out of nowhere, his dream had come suddenly back to life. To soar among the stars, to be a pioneering hero who would find his name at least marginally on the notes of history. He dared to hope for something more than he deserved, dared to test his luck again. Though his reach, just like when he was a toddler, exceeded his grasp. He wasn’t keeping up, wasn’t making the grade. He joked about not really caring, he let himself believe his own hype just to fake it until he could make it. Though it wasn’t working. Now, nestled against him he had discovered a little genius, who made him if only for a moment really believe in himself. He was close in skill to _Powell_ of all the prospective future aces. Maybe, if the little brainbox said so, just maybe Lance was wrong about himself. Maybe he _could_ go further…?

Then, he dreaded what it might mean to lose that belief in him. Would it be the dumbest thing he ever did if having found this guy he ended up driving them away by not thinking with his head? Gunderson, with facts he could barely follow, made Lance doubt his constant self-doubt. Why would he risk that? What kind of idiot would he have to be to risk that…?

“What if I screwed that up as well…?” Lance’s meek question cut through the shared silence, “You believe in me, I get that. I don’t know why sometimes… A _lot_ of the time… But, _both of you_ can’t be wrong, right…? If I end up going the wrong way with this…then… Maybe it’s best I just keep a friend than take a risk…?”

Hunk sighed, “Amuia le masina, e alu ma toe sau. My Grandpa used to say. And presumably his Grandpa before him and so on and so on… It means, _The moon is blessed_. _It gets to come around again even after it sets_ …”

Lance furrowed his brow in utter confusion, “You sure you didn’t drink anything Hunk…?”

“It means you’ve only got one life, Lance.” Hunk let the advice hang between them, “You really got the time to sit around worrying what _could_ happen…? Not really. Worrying about stuff _when_ it happens is one thing… I’m quite good at doing that myself… But worrying about the ‘if’ _so much_ that you _never_ take a chance? Crazy.”

A sleepy mumble spoke something warm but muffled into Lance’s neck. “Can’t hear you sleepyhead…” Lance responded gently, “Should we be quiet…?”

Pidge lifted her head, smiling dozily up to Lance, “Power nap.” She explained, “Besides, I don’t think you’d survive being quiet for more than a few seconds, Lance…” She yawned again, “What Hunk just said about the moon… Reminds me of something my Dad used to say… Something my Dad, still says… ‘ _If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great._ ’ So, whatever you’re worried about, _just do it_ … You worry about what’s the _worst_ but what’s the _best_ that could happen…?”

“The best that could happen…?” Lance felt weak in her probing gaze. “Maybe more than I deserve…” He felt the words, shamefully tumble from his mouth before he could stop himself.

Pidge considered that for a moment. “There’s no way I could know if that’s true… I _suspect_ it probably isn’t… But so what if it was? Why not be a little _greedy_?” She pouted, “Man’s reach _should_ exceed our grasp. That’s how we _progress_ as a species. Always struggling for the next horizon… Dad said something like that too, and he’s right…” Her expression turned to a gentle smile, eyes honest, earnest, believing, “Whatever this thing is…this thing that you want so badly… _Just go for it_ …”

Lance found himself unable to even look to Gunderson, forcing back a nervous stammer as his face reddened. Desperate to avoid what he suspected would be the only route this conversation could take, he instead blurted out, “Wow, your Dad’s got a saying for everything! Must be a smart guy! Must be where you got it from!”

Hunk rolled his eyes, muttering below his breath, “You can be such a moron…” Though he found himself also suddenly contemplating one of the quotes. He was sure he’d heard it before.

“Oh…” Pidge found herself surprised by Lance’s response, suddenly having thoughts swim to the surface she had until now been keeping less focus upon. “Y-yeah… Him and Mom are both pretty much geniuses in their fields as well… My brother as well… Whole family of nerds…”

Lance didn’t miss the slightly downward tone Pidge’s voice took, “Hey, I’m sorry man… Didn’t mean to get you feeling homesick…” He rested his head gently to Pidge’s, “Maybe tomorrow we could go visit them? Just a flight away right…? You can show me where you grew up, maybe…?”

“I’d…” Pidge struggled to think of a decent excuse, “Dad’s in space! Mom’s…book club! All day thing, big deal, _big_ reader… Brother as well, not book club, he’s in space as well. No point going over…”

Hunk furrowed his brow, he’d heard the name Gunderson before now, but it was still very distinctive. He felt certain that he would have remembered seeing the name among the active missions. Especially given his new teammate. Something about the story didn’t seem to add up.

“Ok.” Lance smiled, “Just squeeze a little tighter then. I’d hug you back, but my hands are occupied…”

The conversation weighed on Pidge, though in contrast the lightness in her chest was by now becoming almost familiar. A near constant sensation of warmth and tranquillity that just seemed to fill every part of her with the sense of utter and complete safety. She could never give up on finding her family, the thought never even once had crossed her mind. However, in the darker nights when fear crept in, she wondered how she could ever go on living if what she found was… _very final_. She chased that image away with this calm, warm serenity. She realised that this feeling just might be strong enough to help, even then. After a _long_ and _slow_ time, it could at least _help_ to ease even that most terrible of hypothetical soul crushing sorrows. Though that wasn’t going to happen. She would find them both alive, even without any supporting data she knew it without question. Once she had finally found them, she suspected this feeling could lift her into the kind of joy she hadn’t even realised existed. Often described by such a short, simple word. She dared to not even think it. Though it was beyond doubt. She felt it. That realisation did not come lightly. There would be problems to face. Maybe, if she was supremely careful, she could even chance telling him the truth about her being…well _her_. Hoping that this revelation wouldn’t be enough to scare him away forever. This feeling couldn’t last on lies. For now though, she just held this impossible boy closer still to her heart. His next goofball remark broke her free from the grip of her thoughts with a life affirming smile.

“Why _is_ your chest so damn comfy, Gunderson? It’s just so _soft and warm_ …”

“I don’t _know_! Why’s your _bony shoulder_ so comfy when it really shouldn’t be?” She retorted, feeling tension fade. The sky was starting to turn from the deeper darker blues into the first touches of oranges and purples. “Sunrise coming…” Pidge mumbled, pulling out her phone, framing the colours of the sky, she rested her head to Lance’s, “Smile you, dork…”

“Already was, Gunderson…” Lance replied, “You have that effect on me…”

Pidge slipped the phone away, satisfied with the result, “You know, sunrise is actually a little deceptive… The curve of the Earth is still blocking the sun _itself_. It shouldn’t be visible. What we’re seeing now is just the light curved by the atmosphere. Same with Sunset actually, but in reverse…”

Lance thought long and hard about this new fact, “So, it’s like we’re seeing the sun’s _shadow_ …?”

Pidge giggled, “That is completely wrong on so many levels... You’re lucky that you’re so cute…”

Lance felt a weight of surprise drop suddenly within his head. “You…think I’m _cute_ …?”

“Refracted light, actual sun, government weather balloon, alien craft, it really doesn’t matter right now!” Hunk called back to them, his pace quickening to a brisk jog, “What it means in either case is that _we’re screwed_ if we don’t get back in time, so _hurry up_!”

Pidge shunted a leg to Lance’s side, “You heard him, steed! Giddy up!”

“Hey, Pidge ease up!” Lance demanded as he matched Hunk’s pace. “Don’t make me buck you!”

“Now Lance, I _do_ like you _…_ ” Pidge nestled herself into what was rapidly becoming her favourite place on Earth, once again. Still comfy, still filled with that amazing scent… Still _right_ despite the ride now being just a little bumpier, “But maybe that’s just a little _too_ forward of you…? Save it for the third date, maybe…?”

“ _Buck,_ Gunderson!” His response both stunned and breathless, only partly from his quickening pace. “I said to ease up or else I’d _buck_ you…” Lance corrected through nervous laughter. “Although…” He mumbled and laughed off the rest of the sentence with a nervous blush.

Pidge gripped his shoulders tighter, sighing contentedly. “Look yonder, our fort I spy. Onward, noble steed!”

Hunk could at least appreciate they were going faster, even if they were hardly taking matters seriously. Just a little further. Through the maintenance shed, down through the access corridor, then into the Garrison proper. Not much further at all.

Lance laughed, “I thought you said earlier that Knights were an inefficient build…?”

“Well, of _course_! But I’m still a Knight, if only because I’m riding my _handsome_ stallion…” Pidge giggled, whispering into his ear, “Also… I think… _Maybe_ …that I _like_ … _Lance. A_. _Lot_.” She buried her head into his neck, already feeling the blush on her face, “That sounded much less dorky in my head…”

“Yeah, it _was_ pretty a _dork_ able…” Lance agreed, slowing his pace a little as the very edge of the facility began to come into view. “Like Lance a Lot… _Nice_. You know, I’m a little surprised that _I_ never thought of that as a pick up line before… I may have to steal it…”

“You don’t need _lines_ … I already told you that. Just be _Lance_.” Pidge complained, “Just being Lance is more than enough… Besides… I know it’s way more _literal_ this time _…_ but…” The blush deepened, Lance could feel it’s heat, “When you think about it… Haven’t you _already_ … Picked _me_ up…?”

Lance lifted the cadet’s face from his neck with a gentle touch and tilt of his chin. He grinned one of his trademark they-completely-sparkle-and-make-you-giddy grins. “Well, what do you know… _So I have_ …”

Pidge stared back to him, breathless as they drew closer to each other’s lips… Closer…

“Alright…” Hunk breathed a sigh of relief, “This old maintenance shed is the easiest way to sneak back in without being…” There was a sudden soft thump from beside him, the plasteel prefab wobbling against the impact. He soon heard wet suction, shared giggles. He turned to the sounds slowly, knowing full well what he’d see, pressed up against the wall, “ _Oh, come on_!!” Hunk hissed at the mess of his friend’s tangled limbs, barely keeping his cool, _“Seriously guys, you have to do this now_!? _You’ve had all night at the bar, the entire journey back, and you could have even waited one damn minute until we’re back inside_! _But you decide on here as the perfect place to make out_!? _Of all places_!? _HERE_!?” He felt like he was a moment away from screaming.

Lance, unable to turn to Hunk, locked in place as his face was by both a firm grip and exploring lips just offered a dismissive wave. In a breathless moment between kisses, he added, “Some… Privacy…?” The two awkwardly writhed free from the Pidgeyback, the height difference barely keeping their lips apart for a moment.

“Team… _bonding_ …” Pidge added, her hands running an almost frenzied caress over Lance’s chest beneath his jacket. She let out an excited cry as he lifted her up, propping her against a junction box, “Sometimes I hate being so short…” She whispered, before each returned to their shared, newfound and quite clumsy passions.

“Short… _cute_ …” Lance’s response cut short by a hungry maw, ravenous for more attention.

“ _Look…_!” Hunk fought back his anger, “Look…I am _extremely_ happy, _practically ecstatic_ that the pair of you _finally realised that you like each other_ but your sense of timing is _freaking awful_!! I’m not saying you should _stop_ , but just _pause_. Just long enough for us all to be somewhere _where we might not get caught_!!”

“G’way Hunk!!” Lance complained before being muffled by probing kisses once again.

The hand that suddenly, heavily came to rest on Hunk’s shoulder made him shiver in terror. He followed the length of a powerfully muscular arm to a somewhat dishevelled looking uniform, a single stern eye glaring at him, a taut expression of holding back an explosive tirade. Hunk’s mouth wavered open in a silent scream. Iverson’s one good eye narrowed, his free hand clutching at a cigarette. Wordlessly, the commanding officer walked Hunk to a respectful distance from the shed. Hunk’s mind was racing, but there was no solution to be found. Even as the stern senior officer removed his hand, it was clear there was no escape.

“ _Cadet Garret_.” The fact it was not an immediately raised voice made it even more terrible. A calculated fury. His voice low, chilling and growling, “I come out here to clear my head. I come out here for some air and to calm my nerves. What do I find instead…? Why do I expect anything else…? I assume that the two _sucking faces_ over there are Cadet McClain and some _incredibly_ drunk local girl with _very_ low standards that he somehow managed to sucker… You do realise don’t you, that you two bringing a _damned civilian_ here is not exactly _looked kindly upon_...? McClain being that dumb I get, but not so much _you_.”

“Sir, no sir. Not a civilian, sir. That’s…w-well…” Hunk stammered, “That is Cadet _Gunderson_ , sir…”

Iverson glanced over at them looking carefully for a moment, “Huh. Well so it is. I’d give the pair of them a solid A for effort but an F on technique… I don’t care how drunk they are, drool should _never_ get that out of hand…” He turned away from them, taking a very long drag on his cigarette, “You know, I gave these up before I came here, Garret. Amazing what nearly _two decades_ of babysitting horny hormonal _teenagers_ will do to a man’s nerves. Some days I think I might want an easier job, something _safer_ like Jovian Gas Mining. Sucking the resources from centuries old storms bigger than the entire Earth with 300 miles per hour winds. Sounds like a damned _cakewalk_ in comparison to this… Though judging by your face, I think you understand that fairly well.” He offered the packet to Hunk, a single cylindrical vice extended.

“Sir, no thank you, sir.” Hunk declined firmly, “Though yes sir, these two have been a… _handful_ , sir…”

“ _Correct response_ Garett. Take my advice, _never start_.” He took another drag, pocketing the packet. “You know…I really _should_ make a report about this… Get the three of you into my office and chew you all out. _Bones and all_.” Iverson threw his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under a boot heel. “Part of me is even tempted. _Sorely tempted_. It’d almost be therapeutic, albeit petty of me. However, between the latest inventory mishaps, the latest recruit applications to sift through, _my entire weekend_ set to be a total _SNAFU_ with my Mother in Law visiting _and_ the latest business with that cocky SOB Powell somehow getting half his lower jaw smashed… Frankly, I just don’t _want_ to deal with yet another headache right now… You are _supremely_ lucky that I’m in that kind of a mood and that _you at least_ are sober.” His expression darkened, his tone a frozen spear of unquestionable authority and tempered steely fury, “Otherwise, I might _just_ have brought my _unending_ _wrath_ down upon the three of you like ten tons of tungsten rod dropped from near Earth orbit. _I hope I need not explain how bad that would be, or clearly your studies here are falling behind_. See to it that I do _not_ regret this very rare and very momentary offer of charity. Are we 100% clear, _Cadet Garett_?”

“Sir! Crystal Clear, sir! Thank you, sir!” Hunk felt like he was about to explode.

“Don’t _let me see_ any of you doing this again…” Iverson emphasised, “Maybe some good will come of this. Perhaps if he’s no longer chasing skirts, McClain will start trying to impress _Gunderson_ by not being a total screw up. I can hope, right? Now for God’s sake, Garett would you _please_ get those two into the barracks before they _either_ go a step too far _or_ somebody less prone to forgiving that kind of _fraternisation_ sees them!?”

“Sir!” Hunk saluted shakily.

Iverson simply grumbled and offered a dismissive wave in return. The base commander wandered away into the dwindling darkness of the early morning. “Damn teenagers…” He complained to his fresh cigarette.

Hunk, still somewhere between disbelief, terror and rage stormed back over to the shed. With a practiced shoulder check and lift, the door of the building swung open before Hunk made the short trip to his friends.

“Your tongue tastes like the cocktails…” Pidge giggled.

“No _your_ tongue does…” Lance returned with his own shuddering laughter.

Hunk grabbed Lance first, roughly tossing him over one shoulder. Pidge, almost stumbling forward to chase him was lifted to the other. An expression of both determination and rapidly growing weariness swept over Hunk’s face as the two flopped their legs to his chest in defeat. “ _Inside_.” He intoned. “ _Now_.” They quietly snickered as Hunk easily shoved his way into the shed, struggling though finally managing to close the door firmly. Then came the unmistakable sounds of satisfied moans and lips locking together once again from behind his back. “ _Really_ …!?” The suffering Samoan felt like throwing the pair of them to the ground here and now, but he assured himself it would only be a short walk back to the barracks. He was thankful that the pair of them at least _seemed_ far too drunk by now to…well… _react_ _accordingly to the positive attention from each other_. This was quite awkward enough. The two could at least have kept the volume of their lip smacking and giggling _down_ a little. Another odd part of all this was thinking Lance was right… Gunderson’s torso really _was_ soft and warm…


	7. Big Little L Word

Hunk felt each step growing heavier and heavier as he finally came to stop outside his and Lance’s shared bunk. His bunkmate and teammate had long since been ejected from his shoulders. Instead, the two followed behind in a curious kind of entangled crab walk. Refusing to part from each other’s arms and each other’s tender affection, their contented giddy tone was part murmur, mumble and moan. Their inability to avoid most obstacles forced Hunk to subtly prod and manoeuvre them to safer routes. Leaning heavily against the wall, Hunk had to swallow an angry outburst as the canoodling couple bumped hard into his back.

“Lance.” Hunk said firmly in the best impression of calm he could muster right now, “Say good night. Pidge, say good night. We still need to get some practice in… _later today_ so I’d like to get a few hours rest in…” He turned his back to the two, giving them a little privacy.

“Night doesn’t have to end here…does it…?” Hunk was stunned to hear that coming from Gunderson. He might have expected that from _Lance_ sure. The quiet ones, right? “I’ve got a bunk to myself…”

Before Lance, blushing like a blazing beet, could respond, Hunk interjected. “Hold up. No.” He looked sternly to the both of them, “Guys. I know you probably think I’m being an ass right now, but listen… You’re both _drunk_. Stupid drunk. It’s one thing to be flirting, making out, all that stuff… But just, maybe… _Maybe_ you should _calm down_ a little and _think_ before going any further. Ok?”

The two shuffled uncomfortably in Hunk’s gaze.

Pidge blushed hard, staring at the floor, “He’s right…” She groaned.

Lance nodded, “Uh…yeah… I… Yeah…” He cleared his throat. “We’ve got…plenty of time yet…”

“Right!” Pidge agreed, “I’ll…I guess I’ll see you…later…” It was only supposed to be the softest kiss on the cheek, but both wanted a little more still.

Having given them what he estimated to be about five minutes, Hunk cleared his throat.

They pried themselves apart, each shyly waving to the other, offering tiny little peeps of, “Bye…”

Hunk noticed the slight sway to Pidge’s gait. “Lance, get to bed.” Hunk clapped his bunkmate on the back. “I’ll be back in a sec…”

Lance nodded, an entirely love drunk smile on his face. He watched Pidge and Hunk, mainly Pidge, departing, still offering mute waves. It wasn’t until they were out of view that he finally fell through his door and started a long difficult 3ft crawl into his bed.

 

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

 

“So…” Hunk couldn’t think of a more delicate way to put it, “You’re a girl right…?”

Pidge paused in her steps, turning a terrified expression to Hunk. Before she needed to ask, she noticed her rolled up gym sock being offered back to her with a kind smile. Taking it, she nodded.

“Soft chest too.” Hunk rubbed his back, “I’m not an expert but… Yeah, it wasn’t exactly… Anyway… So…what is this like a _transitioning_ thing or…?”

Pidge shook her head, “More like a… _Mulan_ thing…” She couldn’t meet Hunk’s gaze as the two continued back to her bunk, “It’s _complicated_ … Look, I promise I’ll explain… Just promise me you won’t tell anyone…”

Hunk sighed deeply, “I hate having to lie to Lance though… You shouldn’t lie to him either…”

“You don’t have to lie…” Pidge clarified, “You can tell him how much I like him. That’s not a lie… Tell him I said…I lo…” She stopped herself, “That, _I definitely do like_ … Like… Lance. A. Lot.” She flushed a little as Hunk smirked, “He’ll get the reference… And I don’t want to lie to him either… We’ll talk about it tomorrow, ok… I just need to be sure nobody else finds out… Can I trust you with this, Hunk…?”

He nodded, slowly, reluctantly, “Sure you can, Gunderson.”

Pidge still looked away, “Promise…”

“I promise, Pidge.” Hunk said without hesitation.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two for a moment.

“You don’t think…” Pidge blushed, “Will Lance like me less…without…?” She held up the sock.

“I told you…” Hunk said with a soft laugh, “ _Lance can be flexible_ … And I know he likes _you_ a lot. As in _you_ … You the _person_. You could probably be something from outer space and he’d still be totally into you…” He paused for a moment, “You’re…not _from outer space_ are you…?” His question only partly a joke.

Pidge chuckled, “Only in as much as we all are…on a cosmic scale…” She yawned, prompted in part by her door being in sight. “Alright… Time to collapse and get barely any sleep as I worry about the way my life has suddenly gone off on a tangent I never expected…”

“Try to get some sleep.” Hunk instructed, “You don’t need to worry. Whatever happens, it happens. Lance will still be Lance in the morning. You will still be you. Your little secret is safe with me… Maybe it’ll take some time for you both to adjust to being… _together_ … And you’ve got a lot to explain to him… But it’ll be worth it, don’t you think…? For your, what did you call him? Tall, Jerk and Irksome…?”

“He’s worth it…” Pidge nodded, already fighting back the sleepiness. “G’night… Thanks…” She yawned once more, retreating into the bunk.

With what felt like the 1000th sigh of relief that night, Hunk wanted nothing more than to get his head down.

 

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

 

“Hunk…?” The whining voice of his bunkmate pierced the darkness yet again.

“What is it _now_ Lance…?” Hunk’s tone growled in reply, “I already said _eight times now_ that Pidge wished you good night, _almost_ dropped the big little L word and made that lame Arthurian Knight pun… I already _explained_ that it doesn’t _matter_ that you didn’t get Pidge’s number, _you will see each other tomorrow_ _anyway_. You can get it _then_. I even already said that if you want me to be your _best man_ at the wedding then you’d better put on a good buffet in return… _What else could you possibly want right now_!?”

Lance snickered and sang in response, “I kissed a boy and I liked iiiiit! Taste of the cocktails on his tongue…”

“ _Good. Night. Lance._ ”

 

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

 

Morning is a far less solid state of being than most give credit. Many people consider morning to be a strict and structured affair. The hours between dawn and midday, that is morning. To many around the world however, it simply does not become morning unless one very important event has taken place. Sleep. Anything that follows that period of sleeping, regardless of what the evil lying alarm clock says, is in fact morning. Given that definition, Hunk was enjoying a breakfast platter of pink ring donuts and a sizable mug of creamy, sugary coffee. This was breakfast. Even if the cafeteria clock hanging above the door said 14.13.

Lance arrived first. He looked as though an attempt had been made to disguise the heavy dark rings beneath his eyes. An attempt in vain and in vanity. Hunched and clearly worse for wear, his uniform looked as though he had slept either in it or on it. He sat heavily in front of Hunk with a groan. Without needing to ask, Lance grabbed one donut from the pile.

“Not getting any sympathy, Lance. I told you both not to drink so much…” Hunk grinned, “So, have you two had a chance to speak yet?”

Lance shrugged, “We were all supposed to meet here today, right? So…here I am… _Wishing I was in bed_ …”

Hunk considered his next question carefully, “So…there’s no reason at all, not a single thing you can think of, some _small_ reason that you might want to… _talk to Gunderson this morning_ …?”

Lance shrugged, grabbing Hunk’s coffee and slurping loudly at the brew. “You lost me, man…”

“Well, that probably doesn’t take much…” Pidge sat down beside him, clutching at an odd looking green smoothie, “Supposed to help with my currently _pounding head_. This is exactly why I _don’t_ waste my time drinking with the idiot and his vice idiot…”

Hunk felt the spectre of despair sneak into his soul, “How much of last night do you two remember…?” He already suspected that he knew the answer.

“Well, the genius here talked about his Granny’s cake… For all of a few seconds I thought he was showing some normal human emotion before he went after his _slap fetish_ with a bar full of rejections…”

“Well, I remember that _he_ ordered the most expensive coffee I’ve ever paid for…”

“You and me talked about Florence, Hunk, that was nice...”

“Oh yeah, _he_ called me a _Testa di cazzo_ … I looked that up by the way, Pidge and I bite my thumb at you!” 

“ _He_ was talking about my _junk…_ What is _with_ you…?”

“Well you were the one slapping me with it!”

“Whilst you carried me out there _at night_ and _against my will_!”

“You need to loosen your tight ass up, Gunderson!”

“Why would you even bring my _ass_ into this!?”

“Because maybe if you pulled out the _stick_ you keep there, we’d bond as a team and get better results!”

“Oh, I suppose it’s got nothing at all to do with your lackadaisical attitude to ever practicing!”

“I don’t know why the heck I’d need a _daisy_ , but no. _I’m_ not the one screwing up! I’m an experienced pilot!”

Hunk felt as though he could slam his head into the table. He thought this sort of thing only happened in bad movies. The universe must surely have hated him… Then again, Hunk knew what neither of them did. It might have to take longer this time around…maybe a _lot_ longer… But he knew that deep down, really _really_ deep down… His friends could be so much more. A little bit of hope at least… Maybe…?

“Lance, you _are_ screwing up… A lot. But…” She paused, calmed herself. Hunk could hardly believe it, “You’re only screwing things up because you’re putting all your energy in completely the wrong place. You try to fly like some hot shot, rather than just using what you already know from your cargo days. Just try to fly a little _safer_ and you’ll do so much better.” Pidge explained, “You take unnecessary risks, just to show off… _probably to some random new crush_ …” Hunk noted also the edge of bitterness, “You’re not _Kirk_ in this scenario, you’re Sulu. For what it’s worth, despite end results to the contrary...you _are_ statistically improving by a very small margin each time. I’ve even got the data to prove it… So, Lance, can we _please_ just train a little harder?”

Lance paused, thoughtful, “Alright, Gunderson… I guess if you really think I’m improving there’s got to be something in it… You are after all, our little Spock in the shuttlecraft, right?”

“I expected you’d call me Uhura, y’know, because I’m _communications_ …?” Pidge smiled, trying to hide it badly, “But you’re right. Oddly insightful of you Lance. I am much more of a Mr.Spock…and it’d be logical if you listened to me more.”

“I can try…” He gave a slightly more honest and sweet version of one of his trademark these-might-almost-be-cute-if-he-didn’t- _infuriate-me_ grins. “And I can try and be a little Sulu, for you...”

“Thank you.” Pidge breathed out her frustration. “Scotty, you coming?”

Hunk crammed another donut in, “Sure. I was just waiting for you two to kiss and make up…”

“ _Yeuch_. That is _not_ an image I needed, thanks.” Pidge grumbled. Nobody needs what they already _have_ after all.

“You’re no picnic yourself, Gunderson…” Lance lied, “Though you _are_ a little cutie when you’re angry…”

“If you call me little, cute or a _cutie_ one more time, then I _swear_ I will kick your _ass_ , McClain!!”

“Awwww, what an adorable attempt at a threat from such a _cute little cutie_...” Lance grinned, goading the cadet.

“That! Is! it!” Pidge went hurtling after Lance. He was already running.

Hunk, shrugging to himself and smiling, followed slowly in their wake, students standing warily aside in the hallways, Hunk offering apologies to some of them. At least those two were headed to the simulator, so that was something at least. “Couple of idiots…” He said, shaking his head.

As it turned out, by the time they finally finished their practice session, 12 different attempts in all, Pidge was only able to notice a 0.23% improvement in their overall performance. It was a start at least. A small start. A very small start but a start all the same. The Idiot…no, that’s not _entirely_ fair. He was more of a goofball than an idiot. He could at least provoke a smile from time to time, not that she’d ever admit it. _Lance_ would learn in time, they all hoped. Maybe he just needed someone to believe in him.

That night, the once silent stars now spoke. They gave Pidge an unfamiliar word to ponder; _Voltron._

 


	8. EPILOGUE

A wonderful thing had happened aboard the Castle of Lions today. Hunk had the rare chance to cook with ingredients that were actually edible. The kind-hearted human far from home was by now a strong contender for Iron Chef Cosmos, able to turn any strange collection of extra-terrestrial ingredients into something amazing every time. The recipe he had concocted this time, everyone on board had either missed awfully or had never once had the pleasure of trying. Cookies. Soft bake chocolate chip cookies. Or at least, to Hunk’s discerning palette that’s how they would taste. Thanks to their onboard bovine and her soft handed milker, the perfect accompaniment was already chilling. He had decided – quite wisely – to not inform the rest of the crew _precisely_ what the ingredients _actually_ were and to swear Coran to secrecy. It would only turn stomachs. Human stomachs anyway. _Edible_ after all does not always mean _not produced from something that would make you recoil in abject horror._ As true out in the cosmos as indeed it was back home on Earth.

There had been more than enough of the mystery ingredients to produce several batches, though the arguments that ensued as to who wanted to have the first had very nearly turned violent. _I hate to pull rank, but as Black Paladin… I hate to seem improper but as Royalty… I hate to step beyond my bounds but as your protector, I must insist that I ensure the foodstuffs are suitable… I’m the youngest, I miss cookies the most… I’m Lance, your best buddy…_ Even the mice had squeaked in their own protests and demands as interpreted by Allura. Of course, what nobody seemed to realise is that by default, the very first batch was always going to be Hunk’s. Chef’s prerogative, he called it. He informed the crew with pride that they were some of his best to date. Eventually it was decided that names would be pulled from a hat (or at the very least an upturned container) to decide who would get the _second_ batch.

The first name was a single slip of paper with Pidge & Lance written together in Lance’s scrawling hand. When asked to explain himself, his thought process was that they should get a batch to _share_ whilst gaming _in addition_ to any others. This very nearly led to more violence. Pidge insisted that her name being first meant she should get all the cookies. Lance wrote the note, so he insisted that _he_ should be the sole cookie beneficiary. Everyone else insisted the entire process be overturned. Eventually, a compromise was reached. A single batch would be shared between the two, a second batch would be shared when either one’s name was drawn again. Hunk noticed after the fact a shared yet stealthy fist bump between his two friends, almost as though this had been a deliberate yet convoluted ploy to skew the odds in their favour which had worked out perfectly.

Lance and Pidge were laying limp upon the long mess hall table, legs laid out to each end, heads nearly meeting in the middle. Pidge was busying herself with her phone, allowing a playlist to run in the background. Lance pulled Pidge’s headphones from his ears, “Huuuunk!” He whined, “How much longer…?”

“Let Hunk work, Lance… We aren’t the only people he’s baking for. And it’s five minutes less than when you asked _five minutes ago_ …” Pidge breathed a short sigh of frustration, “And before you ask that means five more minutes left. That’s like two songs. Just be patient…”

“Fine…” He huffed, “You wanna game after this…?”

“Do I want to kick your ass? Yes. Always.” She smiled. “It’s just so damn _kickable_.”

“Don’t be so sure…” Lance chuckled evilly, “I’ve had plenty of time to practice recently…”

“So _that’s_ why you’ve been missing so much training…” She rolled her eyes, “Good priorities…”

“No… I’ve been missing training because I sleep _in_ thank you. My extra practice comes from multi-tasking. My nightly _handsome_ routine combined with nightly training to kick _your_ delicate rear.”

“Get any fermented food goo on the controllers and I will break something you’ll miss.” Pidge warned icily, “Though, I don’t see it helping anyway. Night after night you put that muck on your face and still you’re not any more handsome. You train every night, you still won’t improve your skills enough to overcome _me_.”

“Any _more_ handsome…?” Lance teased, “Why thank you, Ms. Holt…”

“You’re currently at _zero_ on the scale. Any step up from zero counts as _more_.” She countered, a slow expression of confusion spreading over her features. “What the heck are _these_ doing _here_ …?” She wondered aloud, finding errant inappropriately saved files among what would seem to others, her labyrinthine file structure. “What even _are_ these…?” She opened one of the three images and her confusion only deepened. “Lance, what’s this…?”

Lance looked to the image on screen, equally baffled. “Kind of looks like the desert around the Garrison back home… Yeah…that’s the route Hunk and I would always take back from The Bitter End…”

Pidge groaned as a memory swept back to her, “My first and to this day _only_ hangover… You two should have been looking after me better… Though… I don’t remember _this_ at all…”

Watching his two friends staring in shared confusion, Hunk smiled. Their batch was done and he busied himself transferring them to makeshift cooling racks. “If that’s what I think it is…” He offered to them, “Then I’m guessing that’s Pidge riding her steed back to the Garrison…”

Pidge snorted a laugh, “Steed. Sounds like something Lance would say…”

Hunk shrugged, shooting Lance a brief look of _don’t touch these_ as his friend’s eyes darted to the cooling rack, “Actually Pidge… It was _you_ who said that first…” He teased and giggled, “That and _stallion_ …” He joined the two of them, examining the picture closely.

It was Lance’s turn now to laugh, “Well, that second one’s not exactly wrong…”

“I refuse to believe such slander.” Pidge pouted. “You’re just taking advantage of the fact we don’t remember.”

“If it makes it any better, Pidge, I lost count of the times Lance _slurred_ how aweshome you were…” Hunk forced the protesting arms of his flailing Cuban buddy away, “That…and _shooo cuuute_ …”

Both seemed to retreat into a silent huff.

“Don’t you think the two of you look _happy together_ though…?” Hunk goaded further.

The huff deepened, along with mumbled excuses about being drunk. Pidge quickly swiped to the next picture. One she hoped would not be quite so embarrassing. It was a lot less natural, the obviously posed yet genuine smiles were quite a giveaway. But it was still her and Lance, pressed so close together that their faces squashed.

“That’s just after the Karaoke.” Hunk explained nonchalantly.

Lance’s eyes doubled in amazement, “I talked _you_ into Karaoke…? You sure you weren’t drunk, Hunk…?”

“Pidge talked _you_ into it. Didn’t even take much doing as I recall…” Hunk reached for his now seldom used phone, a very similar looking device to Pidge’s, albeit in slightly less pristine condition. Hunk allowed himself a small contented smile looking at his home screen. A selfie with him and a very distant Balmeran.

“Your lies are getting out of hand, Hunk…” Pidge practically growled, “There is _no quiznaking way…_ ”

Hunk just played the video. His grin growing all the more impish as his friend’s faces contorted in almost identical looks of horror, amazement and confusion. “I’m sorry, what were you saying, Pidge…?”

“You’re…” Lance trailed off, but quickly regained his courage, “You’re not a bad singer, Pidge…”

She looked away from him, “You’re not _terrible_ either…”

“I guess that means I’m organising a karaoke night…” Hunk had never suspected those words would ever come from his mouth. Especially not around Lance. “I don’t know if the universe is ready for this…”

Lance smirked, offering Pidge a fist. “And we’re going to kick _all_ your asses.” She returned the bump, sliding to the next and last picture of the three. She closed this one rapidly if only for that very strange expression she was giving Lance. He was smiling one of his trademark look-at-me-you-know-you-want-to grins at the camera. The closest thing that Pidge could compare her expression to was how she imagined she looked whilst staring at some new and wonderful piece of alien technology.

“Don’t delete those, ok?” Hunk’s tone was strangely sad, “They’re…a nice reminder of home…”

“Hunk’s right…” Lance agreed, “I know they’re a little _embarrassing_ … But, I don’t want them gone either…”

Pidge hesitated but hearing the pleas of her two friends she moved all three to their proper place in her filing system. “There… _Happy_? Just don’t expect me to _share_ them…”

That had worked exactly as Hunk planned. “Oh, there’s this one too…” Hunk produced his own photo with a few taps and swipes. His two friends stared silently. Even as they took in all the details of the image, Hunk knew that the only response he would get from them now was confused silence.

The two of them were sat in a dusty looking bar, framed in the shot as though it was empty except for them. Pidge was nestled comfortably against Lance’s chest and had raised a glass of lurid green liquid toward him, the blue paladin sipping through a grin and a straw. Lance, one arm about her waist was sharing a similarly lurid though much bluer cocktail, Pidge’s lips curled to a contended smile. The redness on their faces both just put aside as typical drunken-warmth. The peaceful happy look in their eyes, their meeting gaze… Neither one wanted to explain, nor did they want to draw attention to it. The strangest part of all, was that both felt a very particular lifting and lightness grip their hearts.

There was of course a lot more Hunk remembered about that night, but he wasn’t about to tell them that. Not _yet_ at least. There’s no way for example that they’d believe that they laid out Powell. The official story from the Garrison was that a very bad fall had shattered his jaw. Very sad. The more _personal_ kind of details he still had on them were to his mind prime Best Man’s speech material. Especially Pidge’s particularly lame Arthurian Knight flirtation. And the big sloppy make out sessions. And the gym sock. That slapping, fallen to the floor gym sock. Maybe he could use a prop for that? _Those_ stories were going to get a few laughs from the room one day. Hunk didn’t even doubt. He _knew_ that it would happen. He was already writing the first draft. He’d already kept this secret longer than anything else in his life. One day it _had_ to happen again. Shay had to catch Pidge’s bouquet after all. They were just taking even longer about it this second time around.

“You do realise that your Cookies have been ready for a while, right guys? Grab some milk too, I’ve got another...who knows how many more to make…”

Hunk stacked them up on a plate, a cool jug of milk and two glasses to accompany them. Both Lance and Pidge wandered from the room in a daze, sharing the load between them. Their strange shared feeling seemed to want to stay with them. Collecting herself and trying to make sense of a maelstrom of thoughts, the green Paladin looked to her friend, her comrade in arms, that tall, jerk and irksome boy, her favourite goofball. She really _needed_ to game right now, kick his butt, chase away this stupid feeling again. Still, she didn’t have to chase it away _right now_. It felt somehow _right._

Lance, noticing this welcome attention gave her one of his trademark you-know-you-can-always-count-on-me grins. Those honest, gentle, adorable little grins. The ones that Pidge had come to appreciate more every day. There was a softness, a kindness in his gaze that made her yearn to know just how far and how deep this as yet unspoken feeling might still go. So much could go wrong, but could she really miss this chance…? Could this really become something _great_? Something wonderful even? Lance, was unable to look away from those pretty eyes. Why had he never realised _that_ before? They _were_ pretty. They were beautiful. Pidge was _beautiful_. Lance knew he had been an idiot once again. Whilst searching the entire cosmos, how could he have been so _blind_ to the person stood right beside him? Could he ever correct that mistake…?

One day, they may have their answers. One day.


End file.
